Fallout 3: Pittfall
by Thunder Fett
Summary: Slip in, steal a cure, free some slaves: nothing to it right? In her quest for liberation, Audrey Epson soon learns that the battle for the Pitt and the battle for her soul have become one and the same.
1. Chapter 1

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 1.**

_**Author's Note:**_

**- For readers new or returning, please read:**

_**I have to admit, this is pretty much a quest-retelling of the events of the THE PITT dlc for Fallout 3. Now, after reading the first sentence of this note, most readers are probably thinking "Oh joy, another attempt at a story we already know...and hit the Back Button". Frankly, I can't blame you. Why read what you've already played? However, in my completely and utterly biased opinion, I would encourage you dear readers to give Pittfall a chance. While this IS technically a quest-retelling, I have inserted enough original content between in-game events - and made the ending more to my liking - to keep it interesting. Much of this tale is based off of the content that happens off camera or that the game simply cannot capture, like the trip to the Pitt that magically takes all of (checks watch) two in-game seconds. I have done my best to stay true to the spirit of the game, though not necessarily to the broken physics of the game - i.e. sadly our heroine will not be able to carry 100 bulky steel ingots while manning an assault rifle, boxes of ammo and clad in nothing more than, well let's face it...conveniently placed leather straps. In short, the **__**general**__** storyline is the same, but beyond that, my goal is to take an already great plot, flesh it out where needed and tell you my version of events. **_

_**This is my first expedition into the wilds of fiction...er, FAN-fiction writing, so I apologize in advance if I'm not exactly up to speed with this whole process. Any feedback I can get would be greatly appreciated, good or bad, I'll take it all. I would like to thank you for taking the time to wade through the zoo that is my brain, and I hope you enjoy its latest product. **_

_**One last thing: Updates will not occur like clockwork sorry to say. While I have written several chapters ahead (currently on 19) they will not get posted until I and my two wonderful and very picky editors get through with them and make sure every line of every page is correct. This includes making sure that earlier chapters do not need to be modified to make text in later chapters fit better. In English: if it's on the site, it's the final product plain and simple. Oh, and I have a job too, so that takes time as well. (For those of you who pay attention, my author's notes are now attached to my chapters. The whole notes-on-profile thing, yeah...even I got tired of it. So now they're in the story...and horrendously outdated. Life is good.) And...on to the disclaimer!**_

_**I do not own Fallout 3 or any of the content taken from Fallout 3 that may be mentioned directly or alluded to in the course of this story. I have made an effort to use as little of the actual in-game dialogue as possible so as to avoid copyright infringement, but there may be a few instances where the original line is the best fit for the text.**_

**- **_**T. Fett**_

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><p><em><span><strong>Introduction<strong>_

_**For those readers unfamiliar with the landscape of the Fallout Universe, here are some useful nuggets of information to help steer your minds the way they should go:**_

_**The year is 2278 (after the events of **_**Fallout 3**_**). The civilized world is gone and has been for just over 200 years, erased in a mere two hours by a nuclear holocaust more commonly known as The Great War. It is not known who fired the first shots of the War, only that the three global superpowers – the United States, China, and the Soviet Union – all ceased to exist by its conclusion. Along with the rest of the planet. However the apocalypse was not, as many had been led to believe, the end of days. Instead, the destructive nature of man was allowed to continue unabated in a dark age of radiation and ruin. In the War's aftermath, the descendants of those who survived the bombs find themselves wanting for everything. Political ideals, oil, and other precious natural resources are no longer worth fighting for; clean water, food supplies, and the simple lust for power are the current catalysts for the outbreak of modern conflict. **_

_**The story is set in and around the ruins of Washington D.C., more commonly known as the Capital Wasteland. Though the city is policed by the Brotherhood of Steel, there is no one faction that can claim total supremacy over the ruins. Between the super mutants, raiders, and other problems, the Brotherhood has plenty of competition.**_

_**Characters, Places, Definitions and Notable Factions:**_

_**Audrey Epson (The Lone Wanderer):**__** The resident heroine of the game **_**Fallout 3**_** and of **_**Pittfall**_**. Her heroic and humanitarian actions across the Capital Wasteland have earned her fame and fortune. Her name is one that is praised by the good and feared by the malevolent.**_

_**James Epson (deceased):**__** Father of Audrey Epson and the inventor of Project Purity. Through his compassion and ultimate sacrifice, the Capital Wasteland now has clean drinking water for the first time since the War.**_

_**Project Purity:**__** Created by James Epson and activated by Audrey Epson. It is an enormous fresh water purifier constructed in the former Jefferson Memorial. Since its activation, it has purged the entire D.C. Tidal Basin of radiation.**_

_**Fawkes:**__** Friendly super mutant and close friend to Audrey Epson. Unlike the vast majority of his counterparts, Fawkes possesses an intellect that rivals that of most humans. He is caring, principled, and fiercely loyal. He was rescued by Audrey and Dogmeat from a life of imprisonment in Vault 87.**_

_**Super Mutants:**__** A failed military experiment began before the War and continued post-apocalypse by order of the Department of Defense through defense contractor, West Tek. Tall humanoids with a green skin tone, they have the brains of a small child (Fawkes being one of two exceptions), and the strength and primal rage of a silverback gorilla. All super mutants are former humans, exposed to FEV (Forced Evolutionary Virus) with the original intent being to make them into supersoldiers. In the case of the Capital Wasteland's mutants, their original FEV labs of Vault 87 were overrun by their test subjects and now the underground shelter serves as a crude "breeding" facility where the mutants transform captured humans to refill their ranks. The super mutants have a heavy presence in the D.C. ruins, causing no end of grief for other local inhabitants.**_

_**Dogmeat:**__** An Australian Cattle Dog and pet of Audrey Epson. Dogmeat has been Audrey's shadow since she first entered the Wasteland. Aside from Fawkes, there is no one she trusts more with her life than her faithful hound.**_

_**The Enclave:**__** The descendants of the former United States Government. Served as the main antagonists for Fallout 3. They desire to reclaim the continental United States for the last untainted strain of humanity (i.e. the Enclave).**_

_**The Brotherhood of Steel:**__** A techno-religious faction, who serves as the resident police/armed forces of the Capital Wasteland. Drawing their origin from the former United States Army, the Brotherhood's primary mission is to collect and safeguard pre-war technology. The Capital Wasteland detachment has broken off from this, however, citing the clear need to provide protection for the oppressed people of the region. This disregard for orders has fractured the group's relationship with the primary chapters back West, leading to a lack of communication or reinforcements. Thus, the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood must rely heavily on recruits from the local populous to replenish its ranks.**_

_**Ghouls: **__**Former humans who have survived despite being exposed to a staggering amount of radiation. Their lives have been prolonged, and though their outer bodily tissue decays around them, some ghouls can live for well over 200 years. Despite looking like zombies, they retain their mental faculties and are **_**not**_** to be confused with their feral brethren in the depths of the Wasteland.**_

_**Vaults:**__** Designed and constructed by the Vault-Tec Corporation in the years leading up to the War, these enormous underground fallout shelters were promoted as sanctuaries for American citizens to survive in in the event of a nuclear disaster. In truth, these facilities had a more sinister purpose, being commissioned for various social or military experiments with their naïve inhabitants being the test subjects. The Lone Wanderer's former home of Vault 101 was designated as a control Vault, its purpose being to test the effectiveness of the facility's original promotional intent: the safeguarding of its residents. With the nefarious truth about the Vaults being largely known now, most wastelanders avoid exploring an open Vault for fear of the horrors they might find inside.**_

_**Caps:**__** The currency of post-war America. With the almighty dollar being valued at little more than toilet paper after the War, wastelanders needed a form of currency once the concepts of trade and commerce had been reestablished in the inhabitable regions of the country. They found this in the form of Nuka Cola bottle caps. With the pre-war soft drink being more prevalent than water in some parts of United States, bottle caps were readily available in vast quantities. The currency itself is somewhat more stable than its U.S. Dollar predecessor in that it is extremely difficult to counterfeit (the technology to produce and paint the caps having been lost) and the finite number of caps provides a buffer against inflation.**_

_**Chinese "Hei Gui (Black Ghost)" Stealth Armor:**__** Employed by the Chinese military during the Sino-American War (2066 - 2077). Designed for Chinese Special Forces for deep infiltration and shadow warfare on the conventional battlefield, the final version of this armor was first issued to China's Crimson Dragoons during the Chinese invasion of Anchorage, Alaska. The suit owned by Audrey Epson was captured by the United States after its forces had reclaimed Anchorage. The armor was then transported back to Washington D.C. for further study with the hope of reverse engineering the technology. The suit cloaks the wearer in a field of active camouflage, rendering them nearly invisible. (Note: There are additional qualities attributed to the armor that appear later on in the story. Said attributes not specifically coinciding with the description above are creative liberties taken by the author.)**_

_**Power Armor:**__** The pinnacle of American armored infantry technology. Based on the concept of a human tank, the suit completely encases the wearer in a shell of hardened steel plates or poly-laminate composites in later models. Servos on the inside of the armor react to the wearer's motions through a link with a special body suit. This, combined with the armor's hydraulic systems gives each soldier equipped with power armor an improved range of motion and strength. Each model of power armor can withstand a phenomenal amount of punishment before failing, making the suits a must have for factions such as the Brotherhood of Steel and the Enclave.**_

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><p>The sound of a bullet smacking into the ground next to her made Audrey jump in surprise. They had been made. Stealth being now out of the question, she stood up and started running, hearing more gunfire intermingled with guttural curses from Fawkes and growls from Dogmeat. Their routine scouting expedition to an abandoned Satellite Communications station in Maryland had just become even more routine, as they once again had someone trying to kill them. Her eyes darted quickly, seeking out any form of shelter. She found it in the form of a rusted hulk of a semi-truck. It wasn't solid rock, but given the circumstances, it would have to do.<p>

"Go! Get behind that overturned truck!" she yelled as she passed the vehicle's open trailer door and slid around behind the undercarriage. A moment later, she heard a dull thud against the trailer and felt it shift slightly as Fawkes launched himself over the top to land in a heap beside her. A wet nose smearing the outside of her combat visor let her know that Dogmeat had made it too. On the opposite side of the trailer, the metallic pinging and ricocheting of bullets against steel meant that their unseen sniping assailant still had a clear fix on their position. Upon further examination of their hiding place, Audrey had to admit she could have picked a better defensive position, in this case, one that provided an escape route. Their spot behind the truck did not offer anything of the sort as they now had a relatively small patch of ground between them and the edge of a sheer cliff that ended with jagged rocks far below. _Great,_ she mused. _You've got everyone stuck between a truck and a hard place. Another bit of tactical genius on your part, Audrey._

"Is it going to be the running theme wherever _you _go, _we _get shot at?" Fawkes grumbled, glaring over at Audrey. "If so, you could have let me know this _before_ you and the dog freed me from Vault 87. I would have been happier staying with the Centaurs!"

Even in the midst of this chaotic situation, Audrey found that she could still laugh at Fawkes' grousing. Maybe she had been in one-too-many firefights. "I think the Centaurs miss you as well, Fawkes," she yelled over the sound of a .308 round punching through the trailer's roof and smacking into the steel floor. Her words were still somewhat muffled as she was speaking through her Chinese stealth armor's internal head set. "At least when you were there, they didn't feel like the ugliest creatures in the place."

Fawkes cackled, "Touché, my dear. Though perhaps we should turn our attention to the matter at hand?" He jerked his head in the direction of their assailant.

"Agreed. Did you happen to catch a glimpse of our mystery sniper?"

"Indeed I did. He is positioned on the upper ringed catwalk of the tower just below the dish. He is also wearing the armor of those black-clad mercenaries of whom you are so fond."

"Shit," Audrey hissed, instinctively reaching for her Reservist sniper rifle as another bullet whizzed overhead. "Talon Company." Even Dogmeat let out a snarl at the mention of the name.

The Talon Company mercenaries had been the bane of Audrey's existence ever since she and Dogmeat had first bumped into them in the ruins of Georgetown. Their hit squads had a nasty little habit of showing up out of nowhere and gunning for her and her companions. Granted, whoever had hired them had placed a thousand cap bounty on her head in response to her humanitarian actions around the Capital Wasteland, so she could somewhat understand why they wanted her so badly. To the average wastelander, a thousand caps could buy quite a fortune; to Audrey, it represented the minimum amount she spent on ammo alone these days. She had a feeling though that the Talon Company attacks within the last few months had not been motivated by greed. The mercs most likely wanted revenge on her for singlehandedly bringing down their home base of Fort Banister. She was particularly proud of that one. Not only had her psycho-bitch-violently-kill-and-disfigure-anyone-wearing-Talon-combat-armor mentality during that raid stopped the hit squads for a few months, it also allowed her to bag a rare black spray painted combat helmet from their now-dispatched leader. She saw that helmet as a nice compliment to her matte black stealth armor.

"Audrey," Fawkes whispered. "I think we might have a chance to take out the sniper. His shots have moved away from us towards the front of the truck."

Audrey listened and found that the sounds of where the bullets were hitting had moved away and grown fainter. She started to inch her way around to the trailer's rear bumper when a small explosion made the ancient big rig tremble. She smelled the smoke before she turned and saw it. It was billowing out from under the truck's cab. She turned to Fawkes and Dogmeat, the looks on their faces making it clear that they were all thinking the same thing.

Fawkes rubbed his forehead. "You had to pick the one live truck out here didn't you?" he groaned. "We've got a cliff on one side, and at least one Talon Company crack shot and who knows how many more of his friends waiting to gun us down on the other. Oh, and on top of that, we're sitting next to a ticking time bomb. Exactly _how_ do you plan to get out of this?"

Audrey looked squarely at Fawkes. She knew another stare down with death awaited them, just as another day at the office awaited a pre-war working stiff. "We _really_ need to get into that com tower, understand?" Her friend's next two words told her all she needed to know.

"Cover me."

Fawkes let out a loud war cry as he charged from around the rear of the truck and began sprinting towards the com tower's entrance hatch. A split second later, Dogmeat was on right on his heals with Audrey bringing up the rear, leveling her Reservist rifle and pumping lead in the direction of the tower as she ran. Her shots had the desired effect as the sniper above them was forced to retreat around a corner to avoid being hit. His moment of hesitancy gave the trio all the time they needed. Behind them, the fire in the truck's engine was beginning to burn more intensely as the miniature nuclear reactor under the cab grew increasingly unstable. They had just seconds left and they were still inside the lethal blast radius.

"Move!" Audrey screamed, willing her legs and those of her friends to go faster.

Up ahead, she saw Fawkes lower his shoulder and pick up speed. He hit the steel door with such force that it immediately buckled and caved into the entryway with the sound of rending metal. Audrey watched as Fawkes and the door disappeared inside the dim confines of the building and saw Dogmeat bounding in after them. When only a few feet remained between her and the doorway, she sprang into the air and dove across the threshold. She landed awkwardly and felt her head strike something hard. In a daze but with enough adrenaline still pumping through her, she rolled over and called to her friends.

"Get dow–"

Her words were drowned out as a concussive blast rocked the earth and a blinding white light scrambled her vision. She felt a wash of heat from outside and was vaguely aware of a large form stepping over her. Then, almost instantly, the explosion outside was muffled by a metallic bang from inside the entryway and her blurry world was plunged into darkness.

A few moments later, once her vision had adjusted to the low light and her ears had stopped ringing, Audrey saw that Fawkes had stepped over her and crudely jammed the broken door back into its frame to serve as a makeshift shield from the semi-truck's explosion. They were in an antechamber with an exit to the outside and another door on the opposite end of the room that led deeper into the building. The whine of an old klaxon alarm was sounding throughout the facility so there was little doubt their entrance hadn't gone undetected. As she used a steam pipe protruding from the wall to pull herself up, Audrey noticed a black scuffed dent on the pipe's surface. This must have been what she had cracked her head on when she had hit the floor. She now appreciated her dad for instilling in her the value of wearing a helmet whenever she had ridden her Red Racer around the corridors of Vault 101 as a little girl. How the Overseer had hated her for using the hall outside his office as a drag strip.

She felt a something bump against her and looked down to see Dogmeat nuzzling her leg.

"It's okay, boy," she whispered, gently scratching behind his ears. "At least we're all in one piece."

She used her Pip-Boy to scan his vitals and was relieved to see that aside from a few scrapes and bruises, Dogmeat was otherwise unharmed. Fawkes was a different story. Having wedged the door so tightly into the mangled frame that it would no longer fall, Fawkes now turned to face Audrey. When he did, Audrey saw that he bore a bloody six-inch gash on his right shoulder, the same one he had used as a battering ram earlier.

"Jesus, Fawkes," she said eyeing his oozing wound. "How hard did you hit that door?"

Fawkes smiled as much as a super mutant could. "Let me put it to you this way, my dear; those freight trains the ancients used have nothing on me."

Audrey sighed. "Can you still fight? I won't make you explore the rest of the base with us if you aren't up to it. Dogmeat and I can handle ourselves."

"Tis but a flesh wound. You aren't going in there without me and you know it." Fawkes winced as he crossed his arms and glared at her.

"Alright, if you say so," Audrey conceded, inserting a fresh clip into her gun. "Now let's give these mercs a little well-earned payback."

They approached the opposite door, Audrey and Dogmeat on one side, Fawkes on the other. Audrey engaged her stealth armor's cloaking field then held up her fingers to do a silent count down. The slight shimmer effect of the cloak made the outline of her hand barely visible. _Three…two…one_. She activated the wall-mounted switch and the rusty door slid into the floor with a series of creaks and squeals. The next instant she darted through the opening, sweeping her sniper rifle back and forth as she went. Dogmeat followed her in and Fawkes lumbered after them, menacingly toting his Gatling laser.

They now found themselves in a large multi-level room with a central metal staircase that provided access to catwalks on the upper floors. Along most of the walls, banks of ancient computer systems and consoles sat mostly dormant; though a few emitted a series of hums and whirs as they performed various functions. In the back left corner across from where they now stood, a female ghoul wearing a lab coat looked up in alarm from a computer terminal she was sitting in front of.

"Breach!" she screamed as she stood up and started running for the stairs. "Breach, boys! They've made it ins–"

Her cries for help were cut short as a round from Audrey ripped into her chest. The ghoul crumpled to the floor and lay still. About that time, footsteps sounded overhead on the catwalks as three Talon Company mercs seemingly appeared out of nowhere, each armed to the teeth.

"It's that mutant freak and the mutt!" one of the mercs exclaimed upon seeing Fawkes and Dogmeat.

"Hendrix reported seeing three approaching, so the bitch must be here too," said another. "Light 'em up!"

The three mercenaries trained their assortment of weaponry down on the floor below, creating the perfect kill box. There was nowhere for Audrey and her companions to take cover. Fawkes however, was not going down without a fight. He took one step back to brace himself and unleashed a spray of red death from his Gatling laser. The onslaught of laser fire sent the mercs scattering. Dogmeat used the opportunity of confusion to dash up the stairs and flank his opponents. Moments later, he was up on the top catwalk and bounding toward the closest mercenary, his teeth bared and hackles raised. His target turned and barely had time to scream as Dogmeat pinned him to the ground and promptly tore out his throat. One of the two remaining mercs saw the demise of his friend and stood up from his hiding spot to take a shot at the dog. This lapse in judgment gave Fawkes time to send a flurry of laser fire into the man that vaporized him from the waist up. Audrey cringed as his ashes rained down upon her.

While her friends had been making short work of the other mercs, Audrey had been using this time to draw a bead on the final one. She now gazed up through her rifle's scope at where the doomed man was hiding behind a desk with a computer terminal sitting on it. Although she couldn't exactly see his head, she knew she had a shot. She pulled the trigger and the weapon barked a report. Above her, the terminal exploded in a shower of sparks and glass, with the resulting spray of red mist from behind it being accentuated by the sound of an armor-clad body slumping to the floor. Silence followed. The base of the tower was clear. Audrey stood up and deactivated her cloak.

"Is everyone alright?" she called out. Her query was met by an emphatic bark from Dogmeat and a grumble of disgust from Fawkes.

"Glad to see such enthusiasm, big guy," she joked.

Fawkes glanced at her. "The only enthusiasm I'm going to show is the kind that comes from a stitched-up shoulder and a hot bath."

"We'll get that need taken care of soon enough, my friend. In the meantime, you stay here and guard the entrance while Dogmeat and I check out the upper levels," Audrey said as she began ascending the central staircase.

"Preposterous!" Fawkes retorted. "I am perfectly capable of assisting you up there." A hand up from Audrey silenced any additional remarks he may have had.

"Fawkes," she said gently. "You are the most violent and lovable teddy bear of a mutant that I know and I'm sure you would go to Hell and back just so you could ram the pitchfork up the devil's ass if he ever laid a finger on me. Nevertheless, I need you to stay here so that someone can watch our backs. After all, there's no point in us throwing a victory party on the dish if a pack of deathclaws happens to break down your fine barricade in the entryway."

Fawkes groaned in resignation. "If you insist, but I reserve the right to be mad at you until you two have returned." He folded his arms across his chest and turned his back to her, clearly pouting.

Audrey smiled and shook her head as she began to climb the stairs. If there was anyone who personified loyalty to a fault, it was Fawkes. She knew he hated not accompanying her wherever she went partly because of so much time previously spent in solitary confinement and the simple fact that she was the only friend he had in the whole world.

Soon she reached the top catwalk where Dogmeat was waiting for her. She discovered that the exit from the tower's base to the outer walkway was in a side chamber with a ladder leading up to a hatch in the ceiling. This must have been where the three mercs they had just killed had come from as still-lit cigars, whiskey bottles, and ancient swimsuit magazines littered the floor.

"Well boy, looks like this has turned into a one-woman scouting job," Audrey said, her eyes following the tall ladder up to its apex. "Unless of course you've somehow figured out how to climb ladders." Dogmeat responded by letting out a confused woof and cocking his head to the side. Audrey knelt in front of him and looked into his heterochromic eyes. Eyes that were filled with worry. "Listen boy, I'm going to be okay. Besides, I can't be knocked off by a bunch of Talon Company goons; the Brotherhood of Steel would erase me from the Codex for not going out in an epic fashion."

Audrey chuckled at her own joke and began the long climb up the ladder. As she went up, she heard Dogmeat's whimpers of protest from below. Once she reached the hatch, she engaged her cloaking field once again so as not to give any remaining Talons the pleasure of having a visible target to shoot at. Slowly, and with great care not to make too much noise, she pushed open the rusty hatch and eased herself through the opening.

The bright sunlight of the outside world caused Audrey to wince from the glare. Even after nearly a year of roaming the Capital Wasteland, she still was not used to the intense illumination the sun provided. Growing up in Vault 101 for most of her life had made her somewhat sensitive to sunlight, and she tended to favor the shadows of the ruined buildings or rock formations when traversing the desolate landscape. Fortunately, her stealth armor's visor had light adjustment technology which allowed it to be automatically dimmed in accordance to the brighter environment.

She found herself on a circular walkway that undoubtedly ran the circumference of the tower. This was the same location the Talon's sharpshooter had used to snipe at her and her friends not long ago. Yet there was no sign of him. Audrey decided to investigate further.

She listened intently, but heard no other sounds than the occasional gust of wind howling past the facility. Her Pip-Boy's radar didn't even register any signs of movement. She carefully traversed the entire span of the walkway, eventually finding a set of stairs leading up to another metal door. That must be where the sniper had disappeared to, as she did not recall any of the dead Talons below having sniper rifles on their corpses. As she started up towards the door, the answer to her query came in an unexpected form.

Another gust of wind ripped past her and Audrey jerked in surprise when a drop of an unknown red substance blew onto her armor's visor with a splat. Annoyed, she wiped it away leaving a crimson smear on the transparent nanoplastic. As she did, she looked in the direction from whence the drop came and the sight of its source nearly made her lose her grip on the railing and fall down the stairs. Hendrix, the Talon Company sniper, had not in fact retreated further into the tower. Instead, his lifeless body hung limply from the side of the tower above the catwalk on which Audrey now stood. Pinning him to the concrete edifice was a two foot long piece of shrapnel which protruded raggedly from his chest. The shrapnel had to have come from the exploding truck and its killing of Hendrix must have been instantaneous as his mouth hung open in a twisted half-scream and his sniper rifle was still clutched in his hand. As Audrey beheld this gruesome spectacle, she couldn't help recalling a Wasteland adage she had picked up in her travels. _Be careful not to blow up the wrong thing at the wrong time_.

She walked over to where the body was suspended and jumped up to grab the sniper rifle, her hand closing around the weapon's scarred barrel. Using her weight as leverage, Audrey let gravity do the work and she and the gun fell back onto the walkway. Granted, it would be more that she had to carry back to Megaton, but sniper rifles were great for extra ammo and parts to repair her superior Reservist rifle. Hefting the deceased Hendrix's weapon over her shoulder, she slinked up the stairs and pushed open the door.

The room beyond was much like the one she had left Dogmeat in, only this contained a wall-mounted computer terminal and two empty naval cots, each with a footlocker underneath. Not a soul remained to greet her here either. That left only one possible location where any remaining Talons could be holed up; the dish, with the only way up being the ladder and hatch now before her. Audrey quickly discounted this however, recalling seeing no movement on radar earlier. Even when living beings were sleeping or keeping very immobile, they still exhibited some minute movements that her Pip-dar was able to register. Since she had not seen any blips on the screen, the way above must be clear.

She allowed herself to relax and disengaged her cloak. She felt tired and her legs were killing her from all the running and jumping. She sat on one of the naval cots and set her and Hendrix's guns on the dusty canvas, also removing her helmet in the process. She then reached back behind her head and undid the seal that kept her stealth armor's face mask in place. There was a hiss as the recycled air from inside the mask rushed out. The mask's visor slid back over her head and the entire unit retracted to form an expanded collar around her neck.

Audrey was not normally in the habit of removing her facial protection in a dangerous environment such as this, but she desperately needed to feel some fresh air on her face. The armor's internal ventilation systems functioned quite well after two-hundred years, but they only could do so much. She undid her ponytail allowing her shoulder-length auburn hair to hang loosely around her face and wiped away the sweat on her brow with a gloved hand, the cool armored mesh doing little to bring her comfort.

She pulled out a bottle of Aqua Pura from her pack, courtesy of her heroics at Project Purity, and unscrewed the cap to take a long hard swig. The feeling of the lukewarm liquid coursing down her esophagus was even more pleasing to her than getting a chance to remove part of her hot armor. If there was one thing that the Wasteland had taught her very quickly, it was that hydration was a must. Without water, you would die; then again, given that most of the water around the Capital Wasteland contained trace amounts of radiation, you could still die by drinking it. Once she had had her fill, she poured the remaining water over her head allowing it to flow through her greasy hair and down her back in the gap between the armor and her skin. Out in the middle of nowhere, this was the closest a wastelander could come to a bath. She relished the thought of being able to freshen up in Megaton. At least there, she had a sink to wash in and could trade for what passed for soap these days from Moira Brown.

Figuring she should not keep Fawkes and Dogmeat waiting much longer, Audrey reluctantly hauled herself up, water droplets falling from her exposed skin as she did. She started to move towards the ladder, but paused and looked at her recently acquired sniper rifle that lay on the cot. If the dish was as high up as she thought it was, it had to have an incredible view. No point in having the best seat in the house if you couldn't see for miles. Picking up Hendrix's rifle, she detached its scope and returned the gun to the cot. There was no reason to lug the whole thing up there if the building was clear. She stuffed the scope into one of her armor's belt pouches and headed up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 2.**

When she reached the top of the ladder, Audrey had to wrench the locking handle into its open position. Either the bolts on the thing had been applied way too tight or the entire mechanism was in dire need of lubricant. These days it was probably a combination of both. Putting her shoulder against the underside of the hatch, she braced herself on the ladder and tried to force it open. The hatch gave slightly, but remained stubbornly sealed. Yet unlike the locking handle, the hatch didn't feel stuck, she noted. It was almost as if a large mass was resting on top of it.

Trying to create the human equivalent of a piston, Audrey brought her feet to rest on the next rung up and folded her body even tighter into the confined space. Hanging onto the ladder with her right hand, she pressed her left arm and shoulder against the hatch. Using her well-toned legs, she instantly threw every ounce of strength she had upward towards the sealed portal.

To her surprise, the rounded door swung skyward with ease and her momentum propelled her straight up through the portal. Audrey tried to correct herself as she started to fall, but found that it was too late to do anything. Her upper half hit the surface of the dish, knocking the wind out of her, while her legs went back down into the access hole from whence she had just come. She felt herself sliding down and tried desperately to find a grip on the slick metal of the dish. At the last moment, her fingers found purchase on the lip of the portal and she was able to get her footing on one of the ladder's rungs. Gasping for air and trying to get her heart rate down, she didn't even register the sound of the voice above her.

"Here, miss," a sleazy male voice spoke. "Let me help you outta' there."

Suddenly, a strong hand with a powerful grip grabbed hold of her hair and yanked up. Audrey screamed in pain and threw both hands around her attacker's wrist, trying to fight him off. This only allowed the man to latch onto one of her arms with his other hand and forcibly haul her out onto the dish. Behind her, the hatch clanged shut.

The pressure on her hair was released and she felt herself being rolled onto her back. Before she could process what had just happened to her, a thick-soled black boot planted itself on her abdomen grinding into her lower ribs. Audrey yelped and looked up to see the owner of the boot was none other than a Talon Company merc. He was holding a combat shotgun which he now pointed towards her head. In spite of the pain on her ribs, Audrey didn't dare move. Two other mercs appeared from behind the first, one nonchalantly toting what looked to be a long strand of piano wire, the other unarmed except a pair of spiked knuckles.

"At last, I come face to face with the famous Lone Wanderer," the one holding the piano wire said as he slowly circled around behind her. He glanced at his companions. "Which I must say is quite an accomplishment for us as we normally don't see her when she's gunning us down."

"Not so tough out in the open are you?" the first merc, whom Audrey had dubbed Shotgun, sneered. For lack of anything better, she assigned the second Talon the nickname, Piano, and the Spike for the third.

As Piano continued to circle her and gloat, she racked her brain, trying to think of how she could have missed these other three mercenaries. Her Pip-Boy had not shown anything on the motion scanners. The only solution she could come up with was that the metal of the dish itself was thick enough to conceal the men from her sensors. She cursed herself for letting her guard her down. Being careless _always _got you killed in the Capital Wasteland. _Always!_ Even the mindless feral ghouls would know that. Suddenly, Piano was right in her face, the nauseating stench of whiskey and sweat that emanated from him making her fight the urge to gag.

"Don't think for even one second that we've forgotten about Fort Banister," he hissed, practically spitting every word at her.

"Seriously?" Audrey quipped. "Considering that you morons still think you can kill me even after I cleaned out your base, I figured you all just hadn't gotten the message."

Piano's face flushed red with anger. Audrey decided to press her advantage.

"I mean come _on_, guys," she said, addressing all three. "How many friggin' times do I have to turn your hit squads into headless corpses for you to get the memo that I don't want to be messed with?"

At the mention of his fallen comrades, Piano snarled, grabbed her armor's collar, and hauled her forward to where she fell onto her knees, nearly knocking over Shotgun in the process. He did recover though and took a few steps to Audrey's right, still training his weapon on her. "Hold her arms!" he ordered Spike, who nodded and complied. Audrey grunted in pain as Spike twisted her arms behind her back, nearly dislocating them from her shoulders. The next instant, she felt Piano's wire wrap around her neck and go taut. Trying desperately to free her arms, she clawed and scratched at Spike's legs, but to no avail. The pressure from Piano's homemade garrote merely intensified and she began to see black dots in front of her eyes as oxygen was denied access to her brain.

"Die you filthy whore!" Piano screamed as constricted the wire even tighter.

Audrey's head was throbbing and her ears were ringing so much that she did not hear the loud roar that now filled the air around her. The next thing she knew, Shotgun was practically standing at attention as laser cannon bolts shredded his body from behind. In his death throes, the merc depressed the trigger on his weapon and consequently blew Piano's head off.

As Piano collapsed behind her, the wire he held loosened on Audrey's neck as did the grip on her arms. She immediately fell forward onto her hands and knees coughing and sucking in lungful after lungful of precious air. She gagged and spit up a bit of blood, no doubt the result of having her wind pipe partially crushed. Looking up, she saw Spike making a break for the exit hatch. He was in the midst of uttering another terrified profane expression when his body was enveloped in large blinding red flash. When Audrey's vision cleared, she saw that only a charred skeleton now occupied the space where the merc once stood. It was then that she became aware of the rapid thumping of rotor blades above the dish. Rotor blades could only mean one thing in this Wasteland.

With a sickening feeling forming in the pit of her stomach, Audrey stood up and shielded her eyes from the rotor wash as the wind now whipped through her hair. Her knight in shining armor was none other than an Enclave Vertibird which now hovered menacingly over the lip of the dish.

To Audrey the VB-02 Vertibird could only be described as an ugly aircraft. With its twin rotors gracing each wing and its overall bulbous and stocky design, the Vertibird tended to resemble a larger version of the common bloatfly that roamed the Wasteland. What they lacked in appearance though, they made up for in reputation and firepower. In the Capital Wasteland, the Vertibird was the unofficial symbol for the Enclave, the corrupt remnants of the former United States government. These were the same men and women who, up until their recent defeat at Project Purity by Audrey and the Brotherhood of Steel, were hell-bent on carrying out a genocidal extermination of every mutated being in the Wasteland. Considering that the only untainted strain of humanity was the Enclave, everyone and everything else that walked and breathed the irradiated air of D.C. was automatically blacklisted.

Above the loud drone of the Vertibird's dual engines, a gruff voice boomed through the aircraft's external speakers.

"Audrey Epson! You are guilty of high crimes perpetrated against the government of the United States. Lay down your weapons and put your hands in the air!"

Epson? Audrey could not remember the last time anyone had used her last name. She was on a first name basis with everyone she knew, including the Brotherhood of Steel and Three Dog, the Capital Wasteland's resident disk jockey for Galaxy News Radio, had immortalized her with such titles as "The Kid from Vault 101" and "The Lone Wanderer". She found that having a reputation as the Wasteland's white knight pretty much negated any need for her to carry a last name. And why the hell did everyone assume she was armed? If the idiot behind the microphone would look out his view screen he could clearly see that she had no weapons on her. Then again, to the Enclave she had to be public enemy number one after 'assassinating' their President Eden. It wasn't everyday she killed an opponent with circular logic.

Deciding she wasn't going to wait around to find out what the troopers wanted with her, Audrey figured she only had one chance to make her exit. She slowly raised both hands above her head. When she nearly had her arms fully extended, she went for her left wrist, punched on her stealth field, and disappeared into thin air. Then she ran.

The Enclave's response was immediate. Inside the Vertibird, the commanding officer who had addressed her began shouting orders to the rest of his crew. Behind Audrey, the big gunship turned in her direction and began spraying the surface of the dish with fire from its laser cannon turret in an effort to potentially hit what it couldn't see. Doing her best to avoid this rain of death, she ran until she reached a section in which one of the giant metal panels had fallen out long ago. Without hesitation, she jumped through it feet first and landed hard on the upper catwalk below the dish. The hatch that led back down into the base of the tower where Fawkes and Dogmeat awaited was just a few feet from where she had fallen. As she stood, she looked up in time to see a formation of four more Vertibirds buzz the tower, undoubtedly arriving as backup. A small part of her felt flattered by all the attention she was getting – even if that attention indicated that the Enclave was more scared of her than they were of a super mutant behemoth. Limping slightly from her fall, Audrey swung open the hatch, resealed it, and slid down the ladder.

She hit the ground running, nearly bowling over Dogmeat in the process. The startled animal growled his displeasure but immediately put it behind him as he happily trotted after her. Audrey emerged onto the upper catwalk still favoring her right leg – probably a nasty bone bruise from the fall – and leaned over the railing to find Fawkes seated at the computer station the late female ghoul had once occupied. The big mutant turned around when he heard her footsteps, a look of giddy excitement on his face.

"Audrey, my dear!" he exclaimed cheerily. "It is good that you have returned as I have something wonderful to show you. The research this ghoul here was conducting on this instillation is absolutely fascinating!"

"Fawkes, I hate to rain on your parade," Audrey cut in as she made her way down the stairs. "But we've had a bit of an unexpected development."

"Oh?" he inquired, fully facing her when she reached the bottom.

"The Enclave's showed up in force. We've got five Vertibird gunships outside and no telling how many soldiers inside of them. Our odds of escape aren't good."

To her surprise, Fawkes returned her dire revelation with one of his crooked toothy smiles. He usually sported one of these looks whenever he found a pre-war toy of destruction he couldn't wait to test out. He folded his large hands together and touched his index fingers to his lips.

"Then it is all the more imperative that you come over here and see the ghoul's research." He indicated the data that was present on the computer screen. "It might just be our ticket out of this place."

Audrey sighed as she joined Fawkes by the desk. She leaned around his injured shoulder and peered at the computer. As she read the through the text, her mouth fell open slightly.

"My dear, what on earth happened to your neck?" Fawkes said having just noticed the ligature marks on her throat.

"Nothing that hasn't already been dealt with," she replied, waving a dismissive hand at him. "Now hush, I'm getting to the good part."

After another minute or so, she stood back and folded her arms across her chest, a cocky grin sliding onto her face.

"Highwater-Tousers, huh?" she glanced over at Fawkes.

"Indeed," he replied, holding up a holotape. "These activation codes were on the ghoul's corpse."

Audrey's grin grew even wider. "Well then, what say we go test them out?"

* * *

><p>It was not hard to hack into the Enclave's radio frequency. With the right tuning – and the addition of 'Safe Cracker' software courtesy of the Brotherhood Outcasts – her Pip-Boy was able to break the encryption on the channel used by the Enclave personnel in the Vertibirds outside. She needed to get through to whoever was in charge of their squadron if her and Fawkes' plan was to work.<p>

She carefully turned her Pip-Boy's dial and heard her radio crackle to life with garbled noises that soon turned into undeniable signal traffic from the Vertibird crews.

"Excuse me," she spoke into Pip-Boy's built in microphone. "This is Audrey Epson. I need to speak to the commanding officer.

At the sound of her voice, all chatter on the channel stopped. She was pretty sure she heard one of the troopers try to stifle a curse. A few seconds later, the same gruff voice that had addressed her earlier on the dish came through to greet her again.

This is Commander Gray of the Enclave Air Corps. Young lady, just how the hell did you get access to this channel?" he demanded.

Audrey fought the urge to laugh. This was going much better than she had expected.

"How I did it is not important. _Why _I did it is. I'm contacting you to announce my formal surrender to the government of the United States."

"_Holy shit!_" This came from another soldier who hadn't been able to control his surprise while listening in. Gray instantly admonished him.

"Silence, Lieutenant!" he snapped. "Control your tongue or I'll have you court-martialed for insubordination!"

Audrey couldn't help but snicker. _So that's the sound of someone's mind blowing. And here I thought it would be more squishy_, she mused. After that, there was silence on the other end for nearly a full minute. As she was about to add another baiting comment, Commander Gray came back on.

"Miss Epson, you are aware are you not, of the nature of your crimes against the Enclave?"

"Certainly, and I wish to make amends for my actions. If you let me live, I will spill every tactical detail I can on the Brotherhood of Steel. After all it's about time America reclaimed it former capital, don't you think?"

She must have caused Gray to have a seizure upon hearing her offer as the com had gone silent again. A moment later, he returned."

"What are your terms, Miss Epson?"

This next bit was key. She had to make sure she played it perfectly.

"Simple, Commander. During my hasty retreat earlier, I was forced to leave some of my equipment in the upper portion of this tower. Allow me free passage to retrieve it and I will then come back down to ground level and board one of your gunships without incident. If I encounter _any_ resistance on my way up, I will puncture the cyanide capsule I have tucked in my mouth whereupon you will lose the only chance you have to take down the Brotherhood on the East Coast. Is that clear, Commander?" _Come on you pompous prick, take the bait!_

"What about your dog and mutant?" Gray countered. "We know they are here too."

Audrey suppressed the desire to verbally destroy him. She had just given the Enclave their Holy Grail so to speak and Gray still wanted more assurance.

"The dog comes with me but the mutant means nothing. My only cause now is to serve my country and the rightful government. Nothing and no one else matters. He does not know of my deception yet, so do not fire on him until we are all on the ground outside the tower."

But the Enclave officer still wasn't convinced. "And just how do we know you are sincere in your offer, Miss Epson? You go from decimating our ranks to turning yourself in? Just like that? Do you take me for damn fool, woman?"

Audrey's patience had finally reached its limit. "No Gray, I take you for a dumbass," she hissed. "You know damn well my surrender is promotion material. Seriously, how often does your Ace of Spades come to you and say 'Hey! Arrest me!'?"

"Epson, I – "

"Shut up, Commander! If you don't take my offer right now, I will personally go out of my way to find your superiors – those I haven't killed – and tell them about your reluctance to accept the proverbial golden goose. Then, I'll recommend that you be put up in front of a firing squad. Grounds? Unrivaled stupidity." Audrey took a deep breath, suddenly realizing she hadn't felt that good in a while. Tearing a pretentious snob like Gray a new one was more satisfying than she had expected. Her rant was soon rewarded.

"Miss Epson, you have deal," said Gray, his voice a little smaller than before. "You may proceed through the tower freely." But underneath the shame, Audrey could almost see the greed blazing in the man's eyes.

She ended the transmission and looked back to where Fawkes and Dogmeat stood behind her in the room with the ladder leading up to the outer catwalk. The entire time the previous conversation had been taking place, Fawkes had been subduing his laughter. Now he let out a hearty belly laugh that reverberated around the cylindrical chamber.

"Those pathetic imbeciles have no idea what they're in for do they?"

"Well, right now we have the upper hand if we play along," Audrey reminded him. "If we delay much longer, Gray and the Fourth Reich up there might start getting suspicious and our window of opportunity will be gone."

"Do you think they will actually let us roam freely?"

Now it was Audrey's turn to laugh. "Heck no. I'd give it five minutes tops before the super-troopers blast their way through the front door. The Enclave may be a bunch of arrogant bastards but they certainly aren't stupid." She started to climb. "By the way," she added eying his injured shoulder. "Are you going to be able to lift Dogmeat up and down the ladders with that – er, 'flesh wound'?"

"Without a doubt, my friend," Fawkes said confidently. "But if he claws at me like last time, I might consider dropping him." He said this last part all while staring down Dogmeat, who, after surviving a cave full of Deathclaws, a run through a gauntlet or five of super mutants, and the assault on Project Purity, wasn't fazed by much these days.

"You two, I swear," Audrey shook her head. "Let's do this."

Upon opening the hatch to the outer catwalk, the trio was jostled by the rotor wash of a hovering Vertibird, its gun turret tracking them as they started toward the next door. Audrey paused and wagged a finger at the gunship, more to piss the pilot off than anything else. It must have worked as the Vertibird then pulled away from the tower and gave them some space.

Behind her, Fawkes wrestled with the impulse to unleash his Gatling laser on the flying menace. He wanted very much to bring the primal wrath he knew he possessed down on the heads his friend's tormentors, but he trusted her instincts. For the time being he had to play nice.

Once they were inside the last antechamber, Audrey closed and locked the door. She then went to the wall-mounted terminal and hacked through its flimsy excuse for a firewall.

"This should be the terminal the instructions downstairs mentioned," she said once she had gained access to the full system.

"Let us hope so," Fawkes replied. "Otherwise this load of crap we just fed the Enclave is only going to buy us enough time to compose our execution speeches."

Two files now appeared on the green computer screen. One said 'Highwater-Trousers' and the other said 'Appropriate Soundtrack'. Audrey synced her Pip-Boy to the computer and quickly slaved the console to her device. It then began to automatically scan for the activation codes she had uploaded before leaving the tower's base. Once the codes had been recognized, a screen appeared on the Pip-Boy that asked her to confirm or deny the initiation of the launch sequence. For moment she chose to wait and she tabbed over to another of the Pip-Boy's menus.

"What did it mean by, 'Appropriate Soundtrack'?" Fawkes asked.

"That's what I'm going to find out right now; I've downloaded the audio file to my drive."

Audrey toggled opened the correct file and initiated a playback of the recording. To her surprise the sounds of a timeless classical melody filled the chamber around them, reverberating off the concrete walls. The notes made her heart swell with happiness as she and Fawkes shared a knowing gleeful look while Dogmeat panted beside them. This was going to be all too perfect.

This time, it was Fawkes who opened the hatch first and proceeded out onto the dish. If the Enclave had any surprises waiting for them up top, he would be the last thing they would want to tangle with. He set Dogmeat down gently on the metal surface of the dish and helped Audrey up through the portal. When he saw the two mangled corpses of Piano and Shotgun, in addition to the still-smoking remains of Spike, he turned to her in slight aggravation.

"Friends of yours?"

Audrey started to make a smart-alec remark to him when two Vertibirds rose from below the sides of the dish to hover over the trio. One was Gray's. Ignoring the immense gusts of wind thrown up by the two gunships, she patched herself in once more to the Enclave's private channel.

"Commander Gray, this is Epson; do you copy, over?" she said, raising her voice to be heard above the Vertibirds' drone.

"This is Gray," came the terse response. "Epson what the hell are you doing up here? I thought you were collecting your gear and meeting us at the bottom? And why are you on this channel in front of the mutant?"

"He can't hear me over the sound of your engines." She jerked her head over at Fawkes who was making a conscious effort to wander around the dish aimlessly while staring dumbly at the Vertibirds. "And to answer your question, I thought you might be interested to get a new musical arrangement for your eyebots to spew out. I'm patching it through to your ships now."

"What in the name of – "

Gray's words were cut off as the glorious music Audrey, Fawkes, and Dogmeat had listened to below began playing full blast through the speakers inside the Vertibirds. One of the gunships shifted position slightly as the pilot must have been frantically trying to cover his ears.

"Epson!" Gray squawked over her Pip-Boy. "Turn this God-forsaken racket off now! What is the meaning of this?"

With an evil smile adorning her face, Audrey confirmed the launch sequence. She casually put on her lucky sunglasses.

"It means, eat Tchaikovsky you bitch."

* * *

><p>Miles above the Capital Wasteland, an ancient pre-war technological behemoth awakened from a 200 year long slumber on Audrey's command. The vacuum of space had perfectly preserved the Fractional Orbital Bombardment System – FOBS – satellite, also known as Highwater-Trousers, and its entire explosive payload. Positioning jets fired off as the orbital strike platform acknowledged the data from the SatCom array and silently floated into position directly over the facility. While such a targeting strike was normally considered suicidal for anyone still in the dish tower, in this case it could not be helped. The late ghoul scientist had discovered that the motivators to position the array's dish were offline and as result, she could only make the dish face straight up and hope to get a lucky ping off one of the hundreds of orbiting satellites floating around above. That one in a million shot had come – and so had Audrey and her friends who were now turning the ghoul's research into an exit strategy.<p>

Like a mechanical octopus, the FOBS extended eight arms out from its center in an equidistant pattern, each brandishing a warhead. From the end of each of the arms, a targeting laser was fired at the ground below to provide an easy track for the guidance systems on the missiles to follow. The missiles themselves, while not nearly as destructive as the ICBM's and Fat Men that had destroyed the civilized world two centuries before, still contained enough conventional knockdown power to destroy a small army or a military base if clustered together. Once the FOBS had established an accurate reading of the terrain below, the satellite ignited the engines of its eight missiles and sent them hurtling down to planet below.

* * *

><p>At the same time Audrey saw the first of the targeting lasers touch down, the finale of the Tchaikovsky's <em>1812 Overture<em> began to blare out over the facility's PA system. As the crescendo of chimes and brass began to build, seven other lasers hit to form a dotted ring around the SatCom array. Gray was shouting something at her over her Pip-Boy's radio, but she ignored him and stared up at the sky, anxiously awaiting the reentry plumes of the FOBS' payload.

"Prepare to dive down the hatch if one of these things is off the mark, Fawkes!" she called over to him. Fawkes acknowledged with a thumbs up. He too was awaiting this grand spectacle.

Their patience paid off. As Audrey pushed her hair out of her face, she beheld the first missile as it came streaking down one of the laser tracks – and scored a direct hit on Gray's Vertibird at the same time the climactic fanfare of the _Overture_ initiated. The explosion knocked them off their feet and Audrey had to press herself as tight as she could to the surface of the dish to avoid the large chunks of debris flying in all directions from the explosion. The other Vertibird pulled up sharply and tried to fly out of harm's way, only to accidentally intercept the second missile in time to the low brass-simulated canon shots. The fiery remains of the doomed aircraft careened violently into a nearby group of trees.

Audrey rolled over in time to see this and started to laugh, but the smoke from the explosions and resulting fires caught in her throat and she sat up in a minor coughing fit. Her coughs though were mixed her laughing spasms. She felt a set of powerful but gentle hands helping her to her feet and found that Fawkes was by her side along with Dogmeat.

"My dear, are you all right?" he was saying loudly into her ear.

"Never – never better!" Audrey exclaimed once she regained use of her lungs. "Come on, this fireworks display isn't over yet!"

She led them up to the lip of the dish and looked down to where the three remaining gunships had landed in a small cluster. All around the SatCom array, more missiles were hammering the ground, each seemingly in sync with the _Overture's_ canon shots. Looking through the scope she had taken off of Hendrix's rifle, she could see Enclave personnel streaming out of the facility and making a break for the gunships, apparently abandoning the effort to capture her from below. About a hundred yards away another missile struck the ground and the earth shook from its impact. The Enclave soldiers only moved faster in trying to prep the Vertibirds for flight. Unfortunately for them, their efforts were in vain. By the time the final drum roll was sounding, the last warhead slammed into the Enclave's improvised landing pad and wiped out anyone and anything on the ground in a blast of concussive orange fire. The force of this explosion combined with the smaller ones from each of the Vertibirds seemed to make the entire tower rock backwards and Audrey dropped the scope and once again found herself knocked on her backside. She haphazardly tumbled down the bowl of the dish and came to a stop near the hatch. Fawkes and Dogmeat rushed to her aid, and again found her engaged in a laughing fit.

Audrey held up a hand to signal to Fawkes that she was fine, but couldn't get any words out as she was laughing so hard. By this point the music had stopped and the only sounds that filled the air were impacts of falling debris, crackling fires, and her hysterics. Fawkes stood over her and started to say something, thought better of it, and decided to join her. He plopped down next to her and found himself starting to chuckle. Soon they both were holding onto each other and crying from laughing so hard.

Audrey reached into her pack and pulled out a whiskey bottle that was half-full of the appropriate amber liquid. She took a swig then offered some to Fawkes who graciously accepted. He drained the bottle in one swallow and tossed the empty container back behind him where it shattered. Together both friends shared a moment of camaraderie, enjoying the sensation of having stared down the odds again and come out ahead. Dogmeat, clearly having had enough excitement for one day, laid down next to Audrey and rested his head on her thigh.

"That never should have worked, Fawkes" she said after a bit. "We just called down a freaking airstrike on our heads! Whose idea was this anyway?"

"I say that we call it an even commitment to insanity."

She smiled. "We can run that line by Three Dog and see what he says." Reluctantly, she got to her feet. "Come on boys, I'm starving and I hear there's a special on mole rat jerky at the Brass Lantern tonight. We can make it back by dark if we hurry."

She knelt down and was about to open up the hatch when her Pip-Boy made a chirping noise, indicating it had picked up a new radio signal. She rolled her eyes and toggled it on. _What now?_ She supposed she shouldn't be surprised; the height and location of the SatCom installation practically made it a lightning rod for any incoming radio traffic.

Many years in the future, she would be able to recall the words she heard next very, very clearly.

"To anyone who can hear me, my name is Wernher."


	3. Chapter 3

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 3.**

The tone of the unknown male voice made Audrey sit up straighter. She increased the volume as the mysterious Wernher continued on.

"I come from a settlement to the north. I have information of great value to anyone willing to help me free my people. Please, _help_ us! This message repeats. To anyone who can hear me –"

"You have got to be kidding me," Fawkes cut in. "Not another distress signal!" He stood up and defiantly glowered at her. "This time, Audrey, I'm putting my foot down! We have all had enough danger for one day and I for one do not want to go chasing after another dead-end signal." His fists were balling up as he tried to contain his frustration.

Audrey threw up her hands in defense. "Hey, hey, hey Fawkes! Easy now!" she said, quickly turning off the radio. "I haven't even said we were going to investigate!"

"But you will," he protested, gesturing to her Pip-Boy. "You'll want us all to go out and find where that signal is coming from to see if you can help whoever is broadcasting it. And do you know what happens _every_ time we do this? We get attacked for our trouble! Don't you remember the last one we tracked down? Everything was going fine until we got into that basement where raiders jumped us!"

"Yes, I do remember that incident," Audrey countered. "I also recall you gleefully unscrewing their leader's head from his body as you would a Nuka Cola bottle cap."

This gave Fawkes pause. "Yes," he mused. "That was quite entertaining now that I think about it – but that's beside the point!"

"So you're in then?" Audrey quipped, the tiniest of smirks crossing her face.

"I – wait, what? I never agreed to – dammit," he sighed heavily, a look of resignation on his brow. "Fine, but you owe me a brahmin steak if this turns into another shooting fest. Which it will." He muttered this last bit under his breath.

Audrey rose and affectionately squeezed his arm. "I can't turn down a cry for help, big guy. It's just not my way."

"And how happy I am that it is not otherwise, my dear. Your compassion saved me from Vault 87 and it is what makes me proud to call you friend." He smiled then added, "But at least let a mutant gripe on the way there would you?"

"I wouldn't even consider taking that pleasure away from you," she replied, opening the hatch. "Now let's collect our gear and make for Fort Constantine. According to the Pip-Boy, this Wernher's signal is being broadcast somewhere to the northeast of there."

* * *

><p>Dust and grit crunched under the soles of Audrey's boots. They were now trudging down an empty stretch of pre-war road, headed in the general direction of Fort Constantine. The land around them was but a scarred remnant of what had once been Maryland countryside. Shades of bleached browns and grays colored the barren soil, with long-dead trees and sparse tufts of grass adding character where they could. It was little wonder this place bore the moniker of the Capital Wasteland. But for Audrey, it had become home. She had embraced the Wasteland as much as it had embraced the headstrong but naive girl from Vault 101. These days she hardly ever identified herself as coming from a Vault anymore. Other than a few Vault-Tec bobbleheads and a spare jumpsuit, she had all but erased her former life from her identity – the exceptions being her childhood friend, Amata, and of course, her father. She could never forget him and what he had sacrificed for her and for the Capital Wasteland.<p>

Had she been more comfortable and at peace in Vault 101? Audrey knew she'd be a fool to think otherwise. She would never trade for it though. Out here, she had become herself and formed a life of her own, even if it was one she hadn't expected to lead. Traveling the Wastes and aiding those in need had become her de facto occupation, one that had arisen from merely following her innate sense of integrity. One drawback to being such a revered figure around the Capital Wasteland was that she felt everyone treated her with too much courtesy. Granted, being shown respect and kindness from people in her travels was pleasing to her, but it seemed they always kept her at a respectable distance in social terms. They tended to view her as a demigod most of the time. While being able to play the proverbial power card came in handy on occasion, the life she led made it difficult to establish any close personal friendships.

Audrey glanced back over her shoulder at the two exceptions to this rule. Behind her, Fawkes – tall, muscular, and green – plodded along, scanning the horizon for threats while Dogmeat – fur grey and black, with left eye blue and right eye amber – trotted contentedly beside him. She smiled. Never in a million years would she have thought the two closest friends she could have would be an eight foot tall super mutant and a dog. Not humans, oh no, that would have been too convenient. A sheltered girl from Vault 101, a super mutant considered freak by his own kind for having a brain between the ears, and a dog who fell into the fold after losing his master; together they formed a motley crew that was slowly saving their little slice of the world. They had stumbled into one another's lives through chance and were simply trying to make the best of things. Wasteland stereotypes and social taboos dictated that none of them would make it out here, on their own or together. Needless to say, they defied those odds by waking up every day.

Fawkes in particular had been an unexpected and highly unusual blessing in her life. The story behind the origin of their friendship was one that could make even the greatest yarn spinner sit up and take note. For Audrey, the best part about it was its truth.

Still reeling from the loss of her father at the hands of the Enclave, Audrey had charged blindly into the depths of Vault 87 in search of a device called the GECK. The Garden of Eden Creation Kit as it was fully named, the machine was supposed to be used by Vault residents after the fallout from the nukes had subsided. Once activated, the GECK would turn any barren terrain into a green and bountiful oasis. But for Audrey and the Brotherhood of Steel, the GECK represented something greater; it was the key to realizing her father's dream of clean water for the Capital Wasteland. Install the GECK in the Purifier he had designed, and the entire D.C. tidal basin would be purged of radiation. Determined to complete this task and avenge her father's death, Audrey and Dogmeat had entered the hellish corridors of Vault 87 and wound up stumbling upon a super mutant breeding ground. Together they had fought and killed everything in their path, Audrey being driven by rage alone to find the GECK. It was after becoming lost in the labyrinth of the Vault's science labs that she had come across the holding cell in which Fawkes resided. Upon seeing her outside the window, he had spoken to her through an intercom wired to his chamber, pleading with her to release him from his torment. She remembered being taken aback by the existence of an intelligent super mutant, let alone one who could quote Shakespeare and bargain for his freedom. Those she had met before tended to roll out the welcome mat with a bullet to the brainbox. Fawkes had given her a deal to where if she freed him, he in turn would retrieve the GECK for her, as he knew of its location. As it turned out, the GECK resided in the core of science labs, a chamber which happened to be flooded with radiation lethal enough to cook human organs in seconds. At the time, Audrey had had a good feeling about Fawkes, though she couldn't put her finger on why. She'd hoped that trusting her instincts at this juncture would pay off. They did, and had ever since. Upon being released, Fawkes had embraced her in a giant bear hug, thanking her for her compassion and willingness to trust him. Before she could comprehend what had just happened to her, the big mutant had then blazed a bloody path through the rest of the labs and, true to his word, retrieved the GECK. Not wanting to abandon him after what he had just done, Audrey had offered him a chance to come with her and Dogmeat. Fawkes had declined however, fearing what life outside the Vault would mean for someone like him. Given the stigma surrounding super mutants in the Capital Wasteland, she couldn't blame his disinclination and had reluctantly left him standing in the heart of the Vault. Before meeting Fawkes, she had rarely encountered such a kindred spirit in the Wasteland and it pained her leave this one in such a forsaken place. She had no way of knowing that Fawkes' fate would not be decided by her.

On their way back through the science labs, Audrey and Dogmeat had been ambushed by Enclave shock troopers. They too were searching for the GECK. And for her. In the confusion, Dogmeat somehow managed to slip away. He had then fled all the way back to the entrance of Vault 101 to wait for his master as she had trained him to do in the event of an emergency. Audrey on the other hand was not so lucky. After being subdued, courtesy of a flashbang, she had been flown to Raven Rock, the Enclave's hidden fortress in the Capital Wasteland. There, she had been subjected to rigorous interrogation and would have met her end if not for the unexpected intervention of President John Henry Eden, the self-proclaimed leader of the Enclave. She would later learn that Eden, who turned out to be nothing more than a self-aware ZAX supercomputer, had more sinister designs for her; designs she would ultimately reject and turn against him and his minions. Eventually she had escaped their capture and to her astonishment, found Fawkes waiting for her at the entrance to the base, a pile of Enclave corpses at his feet. He explained to her that he had seen her abduction in the Vault, but had been unable to catch up to the Enclave soldiers before they had taken off. Not knowing what else to do, he had followed the departing Vertibirds all the way to Raven Rock in an attempt to rescue her. As he spoke, Audrey couldn't help but feel tremendously humbled by this gesture. Other than her father and Amata, no one had ever made an effort to protect or save her in her entire life. Usually she was the one doing the protecting and saving. Even though he had arrived a bit late to the party, what mattered was that Fawkes cared enough to come find her. Super mutant or not, Audrey didn't care. She knew she had found the first true friend in a long while. And she'd be damned if she let him go a second time. She extended her previous offer again, and this time he accepted graciously.

Ever since that fateful day, Fawkes had been her constant companion, never straying from her side no matter how treacherous the situation. In the early days of their travels, Audrey had picked up on the fact that Fawkes seemed to carry a personal life-debt of sorts towards her. She had tried numerous times to dissuade him of this notion, but Fawkes felt honor-bound to uphold it. Audrey was simply glad to have the company and a true friend to rely on and talk to. Regardless of his motives, she knew Fawkes would be there for her, and she tried her best to live up to the standards he set for himself. Whatever bits of her innocence the Capital Wasteland had wrested from her soul, Fawkes was daily reminder to her of the good she still possessed and needed to match. He always brought out the best in her, and she could think of no higher example of stellar character from him than his actions following the Battle of Project Purity.

After helping to wrest control of the Purifier from the Enclave, Fawkes had carried the unconscious forms of Audrey and Sentinel Sarah Lyons – daughter of revered Brotherhood Elder, Owyn Lyons – back to the Brotherhood's base at the Citadel, both women suffering heavily from radiation poisoning. Many Brotherhood soldiers had offered to share the load, but Fawkes had practically marched over them to get to his destination. When Audrey had awoken from her coma over two weeks later, Fawkes had been the first one she had laid eyes on. Elder Lyons had later revealed to her that the mutant had never left her side during that time, refusing sleep and even many meals to maintain his vigil. From that moment on, Audrey and Fawkes had formed a bond of friendship that could not be broken.

Tearing herself free from her reverie, Audrey looked at the positioning of the sun. They were losing daylight and this Wernher might not have much time left. She picked up her pace and Fawkes and Dogmeat followed suit.

* * *

><p>The sun was starting to set by the time they reached the ruins of Fort Constantine. Before the Great War of 2077, Constantine served as the primary storage facility for most of the nuclear armaments in the Washington D.C. area. Audrey had acquired a fair bit of this knowledge as she had combed through what remained of the base many months ago before meeting up with Fawkes. At the time when she, Dogmeat, and Star Paladin Cross – a high ranking officer with the Brotherhood of Steel – had originally explored the place, it had been crawling with all sorts of hostile pre-war military robots still intent on protecting the abandoned fort from any foreign invaders. Today, the scene was different.<p>

As the trio approached the rust-covered main gate, an armored silhouette emerged from a nearby guard shack and signaled them to halt. As the figure moved in closer, Audrey could see that he was a Brotherhood Outcast as indicated by the blotchy black and red paint on his T-45d power armor. The Outcasts were a conservative splinter group of the Brotherhood of Steel which had broken away from the main expeditionary force in the Capital Wasteland, preferring instead to stick to the original mission given them back in California. The mission's parameters: gather technology and let God sort out the rest; those He doesn't sort out, shoot 'em. They viewed the D.C. Brotherhood as 'going native' for their apparent attachment to the local populace. The subject in front of them hefted his laser rifle and addressed them sternly.

"Hold up, locals," he said, making little effort to hide the disgust most Outcasts had for Capital Wasteland residents. His voice crackled over his power helmet's headset. "This facility is now under the jurisdiction of the Brotherhood Outcasts. Unless you want to get shot, turn around and leave now."

Audrey sighed and removed her helmet and mask so as to show her face. The last thing she needed right now was to be stalled by this sentry. Going through Fort Constantine cut their trek to Wernher's signal in half. Going around however meant that they would have to traverse a steep plateau which none of them felt like doing. Even though Audrey had aided the Outcasts on multiple occasions, apparently her reputation hadn't traveled nearly as far and as fast through their ranks as it had through other factions. She would have to be more persuasive.

"Look bud, I can assure you I'm no threat. Just radio Protector Casdin," she insisted, referring to the Outcasts commanding officer for the Capital Wasteland. "Tell him Audrey sends her regards."

"I don't give a damn who you are or who you know," retorted the sentry. "Now back off or I'm going to vaporize you and the mutant on the spot!" He leveled his rifle at Audrey's head.

"Specialist Bowe, stand down soldier!"

All turned to where the order had come from to find another Outcast pushing open the main gate and striding purposefully towards them. His lack of helmet revealed the brown complexion of his face, and the withering expression it bore. When he reached them he got right in the sentry's face.

"Do you have _any_ idea who you are addressing, Bowe?" he shouted. "Show this lady some respect! If it weren't for her we'd still be playing guerilla warfare with the raiders in Fairfax! She and her friends are the whole reason that your ass is even out here, Specialist!"

"Wait," the sentry's voice was now very small. "You mean this is the Lone Wanderer, sir?" He glanced fearfully over at Audrey.

"You bet your demotion it is. Now grab a radiation suit and report to bomb storage for cleanup detail, _Initiate_." The last word was said coldly while the senior Outcast pointed to the tall warehouse up the road inside the compound.

"Sir, yes, sir!" the sentry sounded off, snapping a salute the officer. His shoulders sagged slightly as he faced Audrey. "Ma'am," he said, throwing up another crisp salute. He then turned to Fawkes who had been glaring hatefully at him from the moment he raised his gun to Audrey. "Sir." This salute was delivered with more reluctance and less conviction. It was bad enough for the diehard Outcast to address a super mutant, the very epitome of filth in the Wasteland to him. It was quite a different matter to show respect to one who technically outranked him by association. Dejectedly, he walked back into the base proper, leaving Audrey, Fawkes, and Dogmeat alone with the Outcast officer.

That was a little harsh Defender Rockfowl," Audrey remarked as she watched the sentry go. "In truth he was only doing his job."

Rockfowl folded his arms and grunted. "His _job_ was to guard the gate and deny entry to any of the local wildlife – which includes anything that isn't you or us – not to harass our trusted allies." He motioned them inside, shutting the gate while he radioed for a replacement for the ousted Bowe.

The long abandoned facility was now buzzing with activity. Several Outcasts patrolled up and down the main road that ran north and south through the heart of the base while others could be seen schlepping carts full of technology and debris from one area to another. Fort Constantine had become the Outcasts' next pet project on their assignment from back West.

"As much as I adore the fresh air of the Wastes, I think this conversation would be better suited for indoors – away from the bullets," said Rockfowl. "Why don't you and Fawkes join me for a drink in my office?"

"As much as we'd love to Defender, we'll have to take a rain check on that drink," Audrey politely refused. "We actually hadn't expected to run into anyone here and were hoping to just pass through the base to shave some time off our trek."

"Then while I'm escorting you to the north gate, at least humor me by telling me why you all are wandering out here in the ass-end of nowhere," Rockfowl replied, not missing a beat as he started off at a quick pace.

Audrey had to nearly jog to keep up with his walking strides. "I think you owe us an explanation too. Last time we saw you was when you were back at Independence."

"Remember what I told Specialist – er, Initiate Bowe? That you were the reason he was out here? Well, count me and everyone else out here on that list too." They paused to let a pair of Outcasts pass by who were carrying a long box with markings that indicated a content of high explosives. In spite of the heavy load, they saluted their superiors, both legitimate and honorary, without breaking stride. Rockfowl continued. "When you, Fawkes, and Dogmeat exterminated the raider infestation in Fairfax it enabled us to fully annex the town. With the town now serving to provide more of our basic needs, Protector Casdin felt that the Outcasts now had more of an opportunity for expansion. Long story short, our first assignment is here at Fort Constantine. As the acting CO of this detachment, I am responsible for supervising the recovery operations at this site."

"Quite a promotion for you, Defender," said Fawkes. "It must be a great honor for you to command these men and women."

Rockfowl scoffed and continued on, this time at a more leisurely pace. "Great honor? Great migraine headache is more like it. It may not look like it, but most of my troops here are Specialists or green Initiates." Outcast Specialists were the equivalent to Brotherhood Scribes; eggheads with guns, Audrey noted. "Most of the veteran soldiers are back in Fairfax as they are needed to protect the town and Fort Independence. Initially, I was supposed to have two whole companies detailed for Constantine."

"I sense a 'but' coming," commented Audrey.

Rockfowl gave her a sideways glance. "You sense right. _But _when our advance scouts reported this place had Lone Wanderer handiwork written all over it and was practically begging for us to take it over, our defensive numbers for this expedition were instantly cut in half as no immediate threat was identified. Hence, you get Initiate Bowe, who was given a sentry position as I had no one else qualified to fill that need." He shook his head ruefully. "Good kid, but ultimately better suited in front of a computer or a workbench."

"Well at least the Fort's been kind to you. Your scav teams seem to be recovering a lot of useable technology," Audrey offered.

"That's about the only thing that makes this assignment worth it," Rockfowl agreed. "The amount of tech and records alone are too good to pass up."

They were now at the north gate of the base. Beyond them lay more sparse and rugged terrain.

"Here we are," Rockfowl announced. "And to think this rusty chain link fence is the only thing separating my little paradise from Hell. Now come on, I've scratched your back, now you scratch mine; what are you doing up here? It's not often that your travels take you this far north."

"We are responding to a distress signal emanating from a location northeast of here," said Fawkes. "Perhaps you have heard it?"

Audrey turned on Wernher's message and played it for Rockfowl. After the second repetition, the Defender folded his arms and nodded. "Oh yeah, we did pick this up a couple of hours ago on our scanners," he said nonchalantly.

Audrey was surprised. "Wait, you've known about this and didn't send anyone to help? The signal's just half a mile that way!"

"Why should we? This is the Wild West of the Capital Wasteland. Out here anything can happen and all of it can and probably will be bad. Odds are the poor bastard who sent that message is dead by now; if he stayed in one place he gave something a lot bigger than him that much more time to hunt and kill him." Rockfowl shrugged. "Why should we interfere in the circle of life?"

"Because that's what you, oh dammit never mind!" Audrey threw her hands up in frustration and Rockfowl backed up a step. She took a deep breath and continued. "Thank you for escorting us through your base. Now if you will excuse us, we have a mission of mercy to attend to." With that, she donned her mask and helmet, turned on her heel and started out the gate with Fawkes and Dogmeat in tow.

Rockfowl started to say something but decided against it. He had intended to warn her about the raider camp set up in the SatCom cluster to the northeast but he figured with the mood Audrey had left in it wouldn't matter. _After all, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned_. Twenty minutes later, he was in his office when one of his scouts came in to report a fierce gun battle at the same SatCom cluster. All of the casualties were of the raider variety. Rockfowl smiled and went back to work.

* * *

><p>The trio paused for a breather near a slightly irradiated pond. Audrey used this time to wash some blood off of her armor.<p>

"You do realize that we could have avoided those raiders don't you?" inquired Fawkes as he rooted around in his car door-sized pack for his canteen.

"They shot at us," Audrey replied tersely. "I acted in self-defense."

"You call charging blindly into a fortified tower and ramming a discarded butter knife into a raider's eye socket self-defense? My dear, I think you need to take some time off."

"Defender Rockfowl upset me. I needed to kill something and they just happened to be convenient."

"Convenience and anger do not excuse harshness, Audrey," Fawkes admonished.

"Fine, you know what hush you," she waved him off half-heartedly. "I know you're right but at the moment, I'm rejecting your reality and substituting my own."

Fawkes laughed. "Well then let me get my calendar and prepare a statement for GNR. 'For the first time in nearly two hundred years, someone admits Fawkes is right!' I can just imagine the looks on the faces of my deranged brethren."

Audrey was glad she had her back to Fawkes as he didn't see the troubled look on her face. She actually hadn't heard his joke, instead pausing in stunned silence at what she had just said. Had she actually justified bloodlust? _Dear God, what is happening to you Audrey?_ The reminder of their current task brought her back from her dark thoughts and her features returned to a resolute mask. She finished scrubbing and stood up to fling-dry her hands. She would need Abraxo cleaner to get the most troublesome blood stains off, but at least she wouldn't look as though she was wearing red and black fatigues. "Well boys I hate to cut this short, but we need to get moving. I'd like to find this guy before dark and we don't have that much farther to go."

They continued on up a trail into some rocky foothills and finally after hiking all this way, they got a positive contact. Up ahead, smoke billowed and scattered reports of small arms fire could be heard in the vicinity of a broadcast tower and the Pip-Boy showed three hostile blips and one friendly blip on its radar. Audrey motioned them behind a small rock formation.

"The signal is the strongest it has ever been. This has to be it." Fawkes whispered.

"From their voices it sounds like more raiders," Audrey muttered. "Okay, here's the plan. We hit them hard and fast before they can react. If that is indeed Wernher they're shooting at, he won't last long if we don't intervene. Fawkes, you circle around behind the radio tower and flank them from their right. Dogmeat and I will head straight up the middle." Fawkes nodded his agreement. "Okay, here we go."

Audrey engaged her cloak and dashed off with Dogmeat while Fawkes disappeared around the other side of the rock. She crested the hill and found three raiders dressed in unusual garb engaged in a heated exchange of lead with a lone opponent in the middle of a makeshift campsite, puffs of ash from its campfire hanging in the air having been kicked up during the fray. They had this man pinned down behind a small rocky outcropping, but he seemed to be holding his own. Not wasting any time, she crouched and fired a shot from her Reservist rifle at the nearest raider. It missed but it got the raiders' attention for long enough. The trapped man stood up from his hiding place and emptied two rounds from his pistol into the chest of the raider closest to him. She died before she hit the ground. Audrey fired again and this time she hit her mark, the man's weapon and shooting hand vanishing in a spray of red. This raider fell to the ground writhing and shrieking in agony; Audrey's version of pity was to run forward and slam the butt of her rifle into his head, quickly ending his misery. The remaining raider never had chance. So stunned was he by the sudden demise of his comrades that he never saw or heard Fawkes coming up from behind. Hesitant to add his laser fire to all the chaos, the big mutant jerked the raider off the ground by his ankles and promptly slung him like a ragdoll repeatedly into one of the steel struts of the radio tower. His body went slack, mainly because his spine was now in three separate pieces.

The man behind the rock had been watching all of this in a combination of terrified amazement. He was not sure what to make of one raider being shot and then bludgeoned to death by what appeared to be a dog and the other being beaten to a pulp by a super mutant. He emerged from his hiding place holding a fragmentation grenade; the pin was pulled and only the pressure of his index finger on the safety lever was preventing an explosion.

"Now you listen to me," he commanded. Fawkes saw the situation and stepped back, hands raised. "I don't know who you are or how the hell you just did that but I do know this: I am _not _going back there in chains do you hear me?" His voice was now rising in volume and intensity. "If I'm going down then every one of you is going with me!"

Thinking quickly, Audrey revealed herself and after setting her sniper rifle on the ground, cautiously approached the man with her hands displayed to show she was unarmed. "Easy now, there's no need for this," she said gently, trying to bring some measure of calm to this standoff. "We heard a man named Wernher was in need of help. Are you him?"

The man blinked, or more accurately winked as one of his eyes was concealed by a black eye patch, but quickly regained his composure. "I am." Audrey started to take another step but Wernher quickly jerked the grenade in her direction. "Uh uh. That's as close as you're going to get missy." Audrey stopped. "Now, how do I know you aren't with them?" His good eye flicked to one of the corpses.

"Because the second wave of any attack never survives after accidentally annihilating the first," Fawkes interposed. "As Sun Tzu once said, 'Maneuvering with an army is advantageous; with an undisciplined multitude, most dangerous.'"

They all were surprised as Wernher immediately relaxed and put the pin back in the grenade. "Now I _know_ you can't be working with those idiots," he said, whistling through his teeth. "No one back home is that smart." He pocketed the grenade, the tension now gone from his scruffy features. "I guess I should be thanking you for your help with those guys. They finally tracked me down…I thought I'd have more time. You've come about the broadcast, right? Risky, I know, but it had to be done. So you know who I am. Who are you?"

Audrey made the introductions. "We heard your signal and came as soon as we could. What's the problem?"

"Well now, a hero! Look at you," Wernher replied acerbically, plopping down in front of the campfire. The others joined him, relieved to finally have a respite from walking. Once they were all seated, Wernher continued. "I'll lay it out for you as best I can. I come from a place far to the northwest. It's called the Pitt. It's…well…let's be honest…" His tone turned somber. "The place is a nightmare…radiation, mutation, disease. But the worst of it; my people, some of the only survivors, are slaves. No big deal, you're thinking? It's a rough world. But I have a chance to free them. All I need is an outsider's help before that chance is gone."

At the mention of the Pitt, Audrey shifted uncomfortably, an action that did not go unnoticed by Wernher. She tried to suppress her thoughts but the words of one Paladin Kodiak threatened to resurface with a vengeance. She knew of the Pitt, and that nothing good ever came of dealing with the place. The sound of Fawkes' voice helped to clear her head.

"If it's an outsider's help you need, what are you doing here?" her friend asked. "Surely there are other populated areas between the Capital Wasteland and this Pitt."

"You think I wanted to come all this way?" Wernher growled. "If I could have gone next door to ask for help I would have. Believe me. I'm here because I'm running from our dead friends over there. As soon as I found out about the cure, they came after me. And you can be damn sure they won't be the only ones –"

"Wait, wait. Hold the phone. Cure for what?" Audrey cut in.

Wernher looked at her and displayed a crooked grin. "Now there's the key to this whole thing. The Pitt's a mess. Nearly everyone who lives there is either sick, dying, or…worse. It's in the water. It's in the air. You can't escape it. You stay there a few years and no matter what, it'll get you. But the bastards who have my people, they've found a way to cure it. Once they have that cure perfected, we don't stand a chance. So, we need the cure to bargain for our freedom."

Audrey arched an eyebrow. "Look Wernher, I don't mean to sound like an ass, but why can't you do it?"

"The city is controlled by a man named Ashur. He's powerful. No one dares go against him. No one except me. As soon as he found out that I knew about the cure, he sicked his attack dogs on me. That's why those guys came all the way here. Bottom line, I'm a dead man if I enter the Pitt. I came here searching for an outsider; someone who has the anonymity to pull off what I need."

"And what exactly do you need?"

"I need you to sneak into the Pitt and find a way to get close enough to Ashur to steal the cure. Nothing to it, right?" In the gathering darkness, the flames from the campfire gave his eye a twinkle that Audrey felt was out of place. Wernher seemed entirely too comfortable with the idea of traveling to the Pitt. Sure it was the place he called home, but…

Fawkes had been keeping an eye on Wernher for most of the conversation and did not like the frequency with which he seemed to be glancing over at Audrey. Was it lust that dominated the man's thoughts or was it something else. "I would assume that by 'you' you were referring to us and the dog?" he probed, hoping Wernher would show his hand. He did.

"No," he said turning to face Audrey. "I mean her."

Her mouth fell open. "What?" she croaked.

Fawkes stood up so fast he startled Dogmeat. "Absolutely not! We work as a team and only as that. Wherever she goes, we go," he declared firmly, staring daggers at Wernher.

Wernher was undaunted. "Listen green man, this has to be an inside job. The only way to bring down Ashur is from within and let's face it, you and the mutt would stick out like sore thumbs. In a city made up entirely of humans or human-_sized _abominations, there's no way in hell you two could blend in. I can guarantee you the dog'd end up as food within minutes." Wernher's defiance showed that he had little appreciation for Fawkes' ability to tear out his skull and beat him to death with it. "The fact that she's human – and not me – means she's the only one who can go in there and not get shot on sight."

Without flinching, Fawkes strode through the flames and burning coals of the campfire, grabbed Wernher by the front of his cutoff leather coat and raised him up in his vice grip of a fist to eye-level. He spoke deliberately through clenched teeth, his words dripping acid.

"You are not sending my friend on a suicide mission, alone. Is. That. Clear? She is not some pawn in your fucking game."

Wernher proved to be a hardened man indeed. He showed not a trace of fear, even with the snarling face of a super mutant inches from his own. Instead he returned a mask of bold hatred.

"Fawkes!" Audrey's voice startled them both. "Put him down."

"I'm not through making my point, my dear."

"Put him _down_, Fawkes," she repeated firmly. "I'll do it."

"_What?_" Fawkes was so stunned he dropped Wernher, barely missing the campfire.

"Really?" Wernher asked, picking himself up. "Just like that?"

Fawkes' temper had now reached apocalyptic levels. "Audrey, have you gone mad?" he shouted. "This, _man_," he pointed an accusing finger at Wernher, "shows up out of the blue, tells you to journey into a hostile settlement alone, and you actually want to go along with his little scheme? I won't allow it."

Audrey's response was firm, but not harsh. "No Fawkes, what you'll do is take a walk to blow off some steam. Right now. Take Dogmeat with you please and meet me down by those rocks in ten minutes. I need to talk with Wernher. Alone." Her eyes conveyed a sense of love but also a message that she meant business.

Fawkes stared at her for a long moment, his fingers twitching with anger. Audrey knew she had hurt him with her dismissal and that knowledge pained her. Finally, Fawkes turned to go. "As you wish," he scowled. "Come along, Dogmeat. I feel the urge to tear someone's soul out right now." Dogmeat barked happily and followed him as he stomped off into the darkness.

"Sorry about that," Audrey apologized. "He's a little protective of me."

"Ya' think?" Wernher remarked as he used a stick to stoke the fire.

They sat in silence for a moment as they watched the flames dance across the dried wood. It was Wernher who spoke up first.

"Look, um…I don't mean to look a gift horse in the mouth, but why did you agree to help me so fast? I'm essentially asking you to enter the gates of Hell itself."

Audrey smiled as she tried to hide the numerous objections to this that were springing up in her mind. "I won't lie to you; I don't want to go to the Pitt. At all. But I can't sit here and turn a blind eye to your plight." She stared down at her black boots. "You're probably going to think this is cliché, but I'm a crusader of sorts when it comes to slavery." That was an understatement if there ever was one. Audrey had made it a point ever since she became fully aware of the plight of the Capital Wasteland to snuff out any traces of enslavement. The very act of it disgusted her and she viewed anyone who forced another human being into animalistic bondage as a stain upon the landscape. "Because of me, the slave trade here in D.C. has…fallen off the map, so to speak."

Wernher chuckled at this. "So that explains it," he muttered.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Huh? Oh nothing, just telling myself that I know how to pick 'em," he explained.

"Well, look," Audrey continued. "I can tell you that I'm not exactly comfortable with the thought of going in there alone. Don't get me wrong, I can hold my own in a fight, but I've heard things that make me really leery of this place."

"Oh? What things?"

"Bad things. We'll just leave it at that."

Wernher nodded. "Fair enough. You won't be completely alone however. I'll be monitoring the situation from the outside while my slave contact, Midea, will look after you on the inside. So, although you'll have to go it alone, you won't be alone. It's like I was trying to tell the Jolly Green Giant earlier, the population of the Pitt is entirely human or a messed up version of human. He and your dog would stand out like neon signs in the city and they would only slow us down before getting killed. Trust me, as fun as it would be to watch a ragtag commando squad or a whole battalion of troops kill the bosses, Ashur has fortified the Pitt in such a way that an invading force can't breach the city. Land mines, booby traps, manpower, you name it, he's set it up to protect the Pitt from outside incursion. He's even got the freakin' city itself as a weapon.

"How do you mean?"

"The Pitt tends to kill those who it deems weak and adds those lucky enough to survive to Ashur's ranks or the slave pens. Even that depends on how screwed up you are at the time." Wernher shook his head. "It's a story for another time. In short, as much as I hate to admit it, the only way to bring down that sonofabitch is from right under his nose."

Audrey briefly massaged her temples. The effort to quiet all the alarm bells going off inside her mind was starting to give her a headache. _Only your father would be more upset than Fawkes at what you're about to commit to_, she thought. "Okay, I'm going to hate myself for asking this; just how do we get in under his nose?"

Wernher looked at her and bit his lower lip. "Well, obviously you'll need a disguise. These guys aren't the type to let some random armed Waster past the gates and there's no way in hell that Stealth Boy you're wearing can carry a charge long enough for you to sneak in and sneak out. That only leaves one alternative," he took a deep breath. "You'll need to go in as a slave." He was surprised when Audrey merely nodded soberly.

"Somehow, I knew you were going to say that," she said. "No wonder you were beating around the bush so much in our conversation. You can stop worrying though because I'm not going to back out no matter how much I want to. You're people need a commitment and that's exactly what they're going to get from me." She locked eyes with him now. "I'm telling you though; you'd better have one _heck _of a plan to get me out of bondage."

Wernher smiled. "Not to worry. If everything goes according to plan, we'll have you out before you even knew you were in." He shifted his focus now. "Going back to your disguise, on my way here, I saw a group of slavers nearby waiting to make a sale. You should be able to get some new threads off one of the poor bastards they have locked up. They're off to the west, near the train tunnel that leads to the Pitt. That should be our first move."

Audrey stood up and showed Wernher her Pip-Boy's map of the Capital Wasteland. Her gaze was filled with determination. "Can you give me the approximate location?" He did so and she donned her mask and helmet. "Disguise or not, I'm rescuing those slaves."

Wernher rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he said in an exasperated manner. "Just get the outfit off of one of them while you're playing hero. I'll stay here and meet up with you when it's done." Audrey was gone before he finished speaking.

"Fawkes! Dogmeat!" she called as she ran towards their prearranged meeting point. A hulking form stepped out in front of her and did not look the least bit happy.

"I hope that you have come to your senses, my dear," Fawkes growled.

Audrey was not the least bit thrown as she was firmly set in her task. "We can go round and round on that one later, big guy. Right now there are some slaves we need to free, ASAP. They're a short distance off in that direction, so let's move!"

Fawkes knew better than to argue with her. Audrey was now in crusader mode and only the powers of Heaven could help anything that stood in her way. He swallowed his words and followed after her.

* * *

><p>The trek to this slaver camp proved to take far longer than Audrey had anticipated. When she had left Wernher's radio tower, she had seen the coordinates and taken off like a bloodhound after a fox. Looking at them now, she realized the camp was almost the distance and a half of Fort Constantine from the tower. Hindsight was always 2020. That still didn't stop her from double-timing it there though. She could hear Fawkes breathing heavily behind her, never uttering a word of dissent or complaint. She knew he was too proud for that, as was she. She also knew that before she left for this expedition she would have to face the music with him one way or the other. It wouldn't sit well with her to leave things tense between them.

Running anywhere in the Capital Wasteland was one of the fastest ways to die. The only exception to that rule was if you were running _from_ something that was trying to kill you. In that case, most people tended to get a reprieve under the condition of justifiable insanity. Running meant that you were exposed and being exposed meant someone or something just had that much more of an incentive to kill you. Even though Audrey had her stealth armor's cloak active, the sound dampeners built into her boots did little to suppress the noise of her footfalls on the solid rocks she was traversing. Fortunately though, they had the rare opportunity not to run into anything on their trek. _Someone up there must really like us_, she thought; having a safe trip to the western Wasteland was a rare feat indeed.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they came to a halt just below the summit of a small hill. Below them on the other side was a cluster of train wreckage and a couple of small fires burning. The fires were in barrels and Audrey could vaguely pick out human forms standing around them. They had reached the slaver camp. Positioning herself on her stomach, she crawled to the top of the hill and surveyed the area through her sniper scope.

"Okay, I've got four slavers and what looks like two, maybe three slaves in a chain-link pen topped by barbed wire," she observed. "So, thoughts on springing them?"

Fawkes knelt down beside her and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Call me crazy, but what if we were to just go down there and ask for their release?" Audrey arched an eyebrow. "No no, hear me out, for all they know, you could be a buyer. You could pay their release and we all walk out of there with no bloodshed."

"If we leave these bastards alive, Fawkes, they'll just round up more innocent people later on. Tonight those men die so that those men can live," she explained pointing to the slavers and their quarry in turn. Her head jerked up suddenly as an idea struck like lightning. Her mouth formed a sly grin. "Although, we could combine our two philosophies…"

"Meaning?"

"How good are you with a rifle?"

* * *

><p>Prosper tried not to cry, but it was hard. The plastic zip tie had been digging into his wrists for the past week and now the pain was almost unbearable. He'd managed to successfully escape from the Pitt and now here he was, in chains, awaiting what was sure to be a one-way trip straight back. He wiped away a stray tear and looked over the man lying prostrate on a mattress next to him. He had died in his sleep the night before and Prosper had not gotten his name. He didn't know what the man had died from, though it could have been any number of things; malnutrition, disease, dehydration, abuse, etc. It didn't really matter though as they would all die soon anyway. The man had just gotten lucky and checked out before the real party had gotten started.<p>

He now turned his attention to the two other men huddled together in the far corner of the pen. These two he was familiar with. Before they had been captured, they had been part of Prosper's smuggling crew, trafficking steel ingots from the Pitt to outlying areas that needed it. Unlike him, they had not been slaves themselves, but had willingly signed on with Prosper after he escaped and helped him put together a sizable smuggling operation. Now, like him, they sat broken and afraid, their bodies mere skeletons after excessive starvation. _Grown men reduced to this,_ he thought. _Did God leave the world after the Great War?_

His musings were interrupted by a small commotion from outside the pen. He saw his four captors hastily draw their weapons and point them toward the entrance to the camp. Their demeanor relaxed just as quickly as it had intensified. Prosper watched in confusion as a dog wandered into camp and sat down in front of the slavers, tongue hanging out and panting. One of the slavers went forward to pet the dog and jumped back in surprise as another figure appeared next to it out of thin air.

Prosper stifled a gasp. _Am I seeing things?_ Surely he wasn't so far gone that he would hallucinate. But a person couldn't come from nowhere; _could they?_ The slavers had their guns out again and the mysterious apparition was trying to appease them. There was much shouting and Prosper found it hard to discern individual sentences, but he could have sworn one of them sounded female. _Female?_ The slavers here were all men, so that only left one explanation: the stranger was a woman. _What would any woman in her right mind be doing out here?_ Eventually, the conversation turned more civil and the woman pointed over towards the slave pen. Prosper thought for certain he had heard the word 'buyer' tossed around. Now his suspicions were all but confirmed as the faceless woman and the dog approached the door to the pen. She was inspecting the merchandise. The lead slaver, Ramsey, started to come up behind her, a hungry look in his eyes. Buyer or not, Prosper knew the man had other benefits in mind besides caps.

He saw Ramsey's head explode before he heard the report a half second later. The woman casually pushed his body away from her as it slumped to the ground. Prosper screamed and joined his other two cellmates as they cowered in the corner. He looked back to where the woman had been standing only to find that she had vanished as had the dog. The camp was now pure chaos. The three remaining slavers were running around in a panic trying to find their ghostly attackers. They didn't run long. Two were dispatched by the phantom rifle and the last by having his neck snapped by what looked like a shadow. Prosper sat numb with fear. He and his friends were now alone.

The door to the pen opened and he watched in horror as the dog entered and made its way over to where the three slaves sat. The woman appeared right in front of Prosper and for the first time he was able to get a good look at her. Trim and athletic in build, every curve of her body was accentuated by an alien black armor. Had the circumstances been different and her face not hidden by an amber-colored visor, Prosper was sure he would have found her attractive. Instead, he now looked upon her as the Angel of Death. Death held a knife.

"P-please, don't kill us," he begged, his voice coming out in sobs. "Whatever you want, we'll do it, just please, spare us!" He bowed his head and reached out to her with his bound arms in an ultimate gesture of submission.

Without a word, the woman knelt and took a firm grip of Prosper's wrists and used her knife to cut his bonds.

* * *

><p>The plastic on the zip tie was durable but it was no match for a sharpened blade. In one swift motion, Audrey severed the bonds of the man kneeling in front of her. He fell back in surprise and looked at his wrists and then at her, dumbstruck. The others two slaves looked on in shock as she released them as well. She stood up and gently beckoned them to follow her out of the slave pen. They moved tentatively at first, but soon they joined her outside the gates. As he stepped over the Ramsey's corpse, the first slave worked up enough courage to speak, his words practically tripping over themselves to escape his mouth.<p>

"Oh my God…are –? You killed them! Are you real? You're here to –? Where are we going?"

"I'll be taking you to the Temple of the Union," Audrey said matter-of-factly. "It's a sanctuary for freed slaves. I have friends who run the place."

The slave's mouth fell open. "Wait, what? You're serious? You killed them and now you're rescuing us?"

Underneath her facemask, Audrey smiled warmly. "Absolutely, gentlemen, from this day forth you shall never bow down to another human master again. You are free till the day you die."

The first slave's eyes filled with tears. "You're either the kindest person in the world or the dumbest. Either way, thank you!" He and the other two threw their arms around Audrey, who had fought hard to suppress the urge to gag as their human odor was so bad. She gently pried them away and the first slave extended his hand. "I'm Prosper, and my two friends here are Adam and Caine," he said as he enveloped her hand in a hearty handshake. "We can never thank you enough. What do we need to do first?"

Audrey now went back to business. "First thing is going to be to get a change of clothes and I'm pleased to announce that these nice people on the ground," she motioned to the corpses, "have decided to provide donations for you as you start your new lives." They all had a laugh at that. "Take what you need off them and go someplace private to change. After all," she winked even though no one could see her do it, "there's a lady present."

The slaves didn't need to be told twice. They immediately began searching the bodies, pilfering anything they could find. Once they had what they wanted, the three men disappeared to different secluded parts of the camp. Audrey walked with Dogmeat to entrance of the campsite to see if she could spot Fawkes coming in from his sniper's perch. For all of his efforts to live the life of a pacifist, he really did know his way around a weapon. The light from the fire barrels was playing havoc with her night vision and she found that she could not see out there very well. She decided it would be best to wait for Fawkes further in camp and turned to go.

"Boo!"

The sound scared Audrey so badly she could have sworn she jumped ten feet in the air. Feeling a presence behind her, she reacted purely on instinct and executed an unarmed takedown maneuver imparted to her by Paladin Gunny, the Brotherhood's resident drill sergeant. The next thing she knew, she had her opponent pinned facedown and was holding her knife to his throat. He was mumbling something to her.

"Jesus Christ, Hero, do you have friggin' psycho in your veins instead of blood?" His words were hard to understand as she had his face pressed into the dirt, but she quickly realized who it was. She backed off and got up as Wernher rolled over with a groan.

"Wernher? What in the hell are you doing here?" Audrey hissed. "I could have killed you!"

"I was checking up on you," he retorted, standing up and spitting dust out his mouth. "But now I see that I need to give you a week's worth of warning time if ever I want to talk to you. You need that much time to cool off!"

"Whatever. What did you need?"

"Like I said, I wanted to see how you were doing. I gather you had fun here," Wernher observed as he nodded to the bodies of the slavers. "Did you get a disguise, yet?"

"Yeah, I'm having the slaves change into some better clothes and they should be –" she paused, looking back toward camp – only to find the newly dressed slaves tossing their old rags into one of the fire barrels. "Dammit," she cursed. "I forgot to have them save their things. So much the better; they smelled awful."

Prosper came over when he saw her looking their way. "These new clothes are great compared to what we had before," he said happily. "They're a bit on the baggy side, but they'll do. Oh before we go, there were four of us originally but one died last night in his sleep. I'd feel better if we could give him a proper service before we leave."

Audrey perked up. "Wait, was he dressed in the same type of rags as you guys were?" she asked.

Prosper looked confused. "Yes, why?"

_I'm going to hate myself for this,_ Audrey thought. "This is going to sound crazy, but before you bury him, I'll need you give me his clothes. Just trust me, it's very important."

Prosper patted her on the shoulder. Ma'am you could have told me you were Saint Monica herself and I'd have believed you. Thanks for letting us do this; I'll make sure to get your clothes."

"Try to be quick about it guys, we don't have much time," she called after them as they went back into the slave pen to retrieve their deceased cellmate.

"Are you planning on taking a little trip somewhere?" Wernher enquired, eying her impatiently. "As you just said, there's not much time."

"You think I'm just going to leave these guys out here to fend for themselves? No! I'm taking them somewhere where it's safe. That, and I intend to stock up on gear for our expedition in the process."

Wernher started to mutter something snide under his breath but was cut off in midsentence as Fawkes lumbered into camp and shoved him to the ground. "Oops," the mutant said, not even pausing to acknowledge Wernher's existence. He toted Audrey's Reservist rifle over his shoulder. "How are our guests?" he asked, referring to Prosper, Adam, and Caine.

"They're fine, all things considered," Audrey replied. "They're giving a fallen comrade an impromptu funeral service and will be ready to go after that."

"That's good." Fawkes handed her back her rifle. "As much as I've enjoyed our little Wasteland safari, I'm in dire need of the comforts of civilization. My feet are killing me."

Audrey looked back over at Wernher and shot him a warning glance as he started to snap at Fawkes. "You going to come with us, Wernher? After all you've been through, you could use a night on the town."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Wernher adjusted his eye patch. "I'm going to stay here and finalize preparations for our journey. Gather what supplies you need and meet me back here at the train tunnel to the Pitt. You'll never find your way there without me to guide you. Don't take too long though; my people are on borrowed time."

"Understood," Audrey nodded. "Be careful out here, Wernher. This place practically invents new ways to kill the faint of heart."

Wernher scoffed. "Trust me, I've seen and survived a lot worse than what lurks out here." _Let's just hope you don't have to as well._

After a little while, Prosper and his companions rejoined the rest of the group. Initially, they were terrified at the sight of Fawkes until Audrey explained to them that he was the one manning the sniper rifle. After that, they hugged and showered praises on him as they had done with her. Once they were all ready to depart, the party – with the exception of Wernher – set off for the ruins of D.C. knowing they still had a long night ahead of them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 4.**

**_Author's Note:_  
><strong>

_**This is mainly for returning readers and a spoiler for the new. Chapter 4 is up and this is going to come as quite a shock...are you seated yet? If not, you should be. Okay, here we go...NO ONE DIES IN THIS CHAPTER! Now I know a great many of you are probably clutching you heads and screaming "NOOOOOOOOOO!" However, be not afraid. Death does not always make for interesting reading...I think...I may be wrong about that... Anyway, this one's basically to get rid of the notion established within the game of "Hey, you wanna' go to the Pitt? Sure, why not! Great let's go! Look we traveled over 200 miles in two seconds! SCORE!" No, ladies and gentlemen, believe it or not, there are actually events that are supposed to take place between the acceptance of the mission and the actual arrival in the dlc. That's essentially what chapters 4 through what's looking like 7 are taking care of, filling in the gaps. I'm a perfectionist...I hate gaps. I'm interested to see what you guys think of this latest addition. I spent many long hours trying to get all the inner and outer arguments in the text to make sense. Out of this I've discovered that I can debate with myself really really well. That's kinda' scary now that I think about it. Oh well, enough of reading my text soap box; once more into the story, dear friends! Once more!**_

_**- T. Fett**_

* * *

><p>Any sensible resident living in the Capital Wasteland would balk at the idea of taking a stroll into Washington D.C. It was not as though they considered the former American seat of power an aesthetic eyesore. Even in a state of decay, the remaining monuments and governmental buildings still carried with them an air of grandeur, each serving as a silent reminder to visitors of the mighty nation that was no more. For Wastelanders, traveling to and through Washington D.C. was viewed more along the lines of a three-part question: did you want to die and if so, how fast and by what means? For all of its enduring splendor, D.C. was still one of the most dangerous areas in the Capital Wasteland. Many of the city streets were rendered impassable by mountains of debris from ruined buildings and the clear sections were patrolled by hordes of super mutants and raiders. Because of this, traversing the ruins was usually done by way of the D.C. Metro lines that ran below the city. Even underground, the odds of survival were slim. The raider bands that could not compete with their more heavily armed green counterparts tended to use the tunnels as a safe haven from the siege above. Then there were the tunnels even the raiders avoided. These were inhabited by feral ghouls, zombie-like abominations that had been around since the closing moments of the Great War. Unlike their sane counterparts, their minds as well as their bodies were rotting from massive exposure to radiation. For reasons unexplained, their lives were prolonged and they were forced to live out the rest of their miserable existence as animals, killing and eating whatever they came across. There were however, a few bright spots in this marble graveyard and Audrey now found herself standing in front of one of her favorites, the Lincoln Memorial.<p>

Despite suffering heavy damage from the nuclear blasts, the Lincoln Memorial remained for the most part, intact. As the sun rose over the dome of the Capitol Building, its rays illuminated the Memorial's recently polished marble columns, an effect of the restoration efforts by the site's current inhabitants. No longer bordered by green grass, the structure now featured a dirt path that led past a series of sandbag walls and makeshift fortifications. At the base of the building near its service entrance, scavenged National Guard refugee tents had been erected and were no doubt being used as living accommodations. This was the home of the Temple of the Union.

Prosper, Adam, and Caine nearly collapsed as soon as they stopped walking. Their journey had taken them the rest of the previous night even with the safe shortcuts Audrey and Fawkes knew to use. Most of their time had been eaten up with intermittent rest stops as the three rescued slaves were not up to extensive travel and needed to rest their weary bodies. As it was, Prosper looked ready to pass out.

"I can go no farther, Audrey," he wheezed. "Leave me here and I'll be content to enjoy my freedom in this very spot."

Audrey feigned shock. "Prosper, how can you say that? We're already here!"

Prosper jerked his head up. "Wait, this is it? In the heart of D.C. we find our sanctuary?" He was clearly stunned. "It's…it's –"

"A place built by freed slaves, for freed slaves," answered a smiling bearded man coming down the dirt path to greet them. He wore battered recon armor and sported a weathered looking top hat. His eyes sparkled with a warm kindness as he approached Prosper and his friends. The man was Hannibal Hamlin, the leader of the Temple. "My brothers, welcome, welcome to the Temple of the Union!" he exclaimed as he embraced each of the three men in turn. "Cast aside all thoughts of bondage for you are among friends." He turned to Audrey, Fawkes, and Dogmeat. "I see our abolitionist hero has brought you here! It is good to see you three again." He heartily shook Audrey's and Fawkes' hands.

"It's great to see you too Hannibal," Audrey beamed, despite the fatigue. "How's the old hat treating you?"

Hannibal laughed. "Well, if anyone needs a walking target they don't have to look far." He scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I have to admit though, after reading more about the Great Lincoln, I don't find his hat quite as silly as I did at first. In fact, I think I'm quite taken with it now." He said this as he mimed adjusting an invisible suit.

"Hannibal, I hate to impose, but we're all very tired and were wondering if we could trouble you for some food and maybe a brief stint in a bed," Audrey inquired, deciding for once to give in to her personal needs. That and she knew Fawkes needed the rest too, although he would never outwardly show it.

"Audrey," Hannibal gently chided. "You know you are always welcome in the house of Lincoln, so you needn't ask, ever. Now then, come, all of you," he instructed. "We must welcome these new members to our flock! Alejandra! Tell Bill to make plates for six more!" he called up to a woman standing at the Memorial's stairs. She acknowledged them with a wave and disappeared though the service entrance.

As they walked up the path, Hannibal talked excitedly with the Prosper, Adam, and Caine while Audrey and the rest lagged behind to give them some needed space. "Although I normally do this at the noon meal, now couldn't be a better time! As we eat, I must tell you all the tale of the Great Lincoln!" he chattered animatedly. Audrey and Fawkes shared a look. They had heard this story numerous times before, but for Hannibal, it never got old.

The next five hours went by fast for Audrey. All she could recall was wolfing down a helping of squirrel stew, her body hitting the padding of a worn out mattress, and Fawkes gently rousing her from her slumber. Groggily, she looked at her Pip-Boy's clock and was startled to find that almost four and a half hours had passed since she had checked out from the world. She thought she had requested only an hour's rest, but Fawkes informed her that he had made the executive decision to let her sleep longer. The look he gave her after confirming this let her know there was no point in arguing with him. When Audrey finally determined her brain was functioning on all cylinders, she and her friends thanked their gracious hosts and said their goodbyes as they gathered their gear and started the hike back to Audrey's home in Megaton.

In the Old World, many towns around the United States annually entered in contests to judge the aesthetic quality of their communities. Everything was taken into account, from the color and quality of the paint on the houses right down to making sure every blade of grass was trimmed to the same height. Fortunately for the town of Megaton, these pageants of snobbery went out of style along with most everything else when the bombs fell. If Megaton were to be judged in such a contest in current times, it would probably win the award for 'Most Likely to be Thrown Up by a Living Garbage Disposal' as it resembled a post-apocalyptic Wild West cow town.

The town traced its origins to a survivor community established in the first days after the Great War in a bomb crater near the entrance to Audrey's childhood home of Vault 101. Its first residents consisted of those unfortunate souls who were unable to secure a place in Vault 101 and had tried unsuccessfully to plead with those inside for late admittance. Over the course of the next century, Megaton's numbers had grown and eventually the citizens were able to cannibalize an abandoned airport near the crater for scrap. With the salvage they had gathered, they were able to build circular walls to ring the edge of the crater and sturdy buildings for shelter and commerce. Around town, parts of the gutted airliners could be seen providing many different architectural functions from serving as support pylons for upper-crater apartments or roofing for the local saloon. It was hard to miss Megaton's namesake as well; the undetonated atomic bomb residing at the bottom of the crater. The town's residents had lived in a quiet state of dread until Audrey had walked in and diffused the bomb on the spot. Now they lived in relative peace and she maintained a heroic status around the place.

As she, Fawkes, and Dogmeat neared Megaton's main gates, Stockholm, the town's sentry waved to them from his post on the wall and signaled for the gates to be raised. Above them, a salvaged jet engine whined and the gates – which consisted of two airplane wings – slid diagonally up with a reluctant groan of aging metal. Fawkes gave a nod to show their appreciation and the trio entered the town proper. Once inside, it was a short climb up the hill to Audrey's upper-crater apartment. After fumbling with her keys, Audrey found the correct one and let them inside.

Her apartment was of the basic design common to Megaton. A two-story structure with a large common area on the ground floor connected to a small alcove that served as a kitchen while the upper floor boasted two bedrooms and wide catwalk that overlooked the common area.

The living room contained two sets of lockers in which she stored her crafting supplies and weapons, a workbench which she used to repair and maintain her equipment, and in the center were two chairs and a coffee table with an intact pre-war television set sitting on top. The TV served to satisfy Audrey's sense of pre-war nostalgia and as anticipation of the proposed television news programing being set up by Three Dog and the Brotherhood of Steel.

The upper floor housed Audrey's bedroom/office and the guest room in which Fawkes resided during the nights. They were still trying to renovate a house for him out of the old mansion in Arlington National Cemetery, but between exploration and the like, that process was slow-going. On the catwalk, she had set up her portable infirmary and her high-tech chemistry set for concocting certain compounds. The scientific genius instilled in her by her father made the latter a must have for her residence.

The only thing she didn't have was a functioning bathroom area. Because of how Megaton was set up, none of the buildings except for the two designated public restrooms and the saloon had extensive central plumbing. At best, they could support one sink as most of the town's piping was delegated for fresh water flow and not sewage. In short, if you needed to use the facilities, you made the long walk around the crater to the restrooms, no questions asked. Anyone caught going anywhere else would face the long arm of the law courtesy of town sheriff Lucas Simms.

Dogmeat pushed his way past Audrey and made a beeline for his food bowl. He looked at her and barked expectantly. Audrey, who was just starting to set down her pack, gave the dog an incredulous look. "You're kidding me," she planted her hands on her hips. "You can't even wait until I set my stuff down?" That warranted another, more insistent bark. She shook her head and smiled as she retrieved an iguana on a stick from the refrigerator and dropped it into his bowl. "There," she said as she filled his water dish. "Lunch and a chew toy for dessert. I hope you're happy."

Fawkes, meanwhile, had unloaded his gear and Gatling laser in a spare corner and had settled down into his favorite chair, a modified caterpillar track salvaged from a ruined U.S. Army tank; yet another home improvement venture he had undertaken since Audrey had set him free. In order for such a contraption to exist, most of the road wheels had to be removed, the sprocket drive wheel relocated, steel supports added in, and track chain bent to practically a one hundred twenty degree angle. It had been a very labor intensive process, but the results were worth the sweat as he now had a place to sit that could support his massive mutant frame. The couch Audrey let him sleep on in his room already a permanent U-bend in the middle from his weight. He leaned back and sighed contentedly, happy to at long last be off his feet.

The sound of a maneuvering thruster bouncing down the stairs signaled the arrival of Wadsworth, a still-functioning pre-war Mister Handy Robo-butler. He had been an unexpected perk for Audrey, as he had come with the house when she first moved in. Wadsworth looked like an oversized mechanical octopus. His metallic body was spherical in design and sat atop a single jet-powered hovering and propulsion system. He had three eyes, each of which graced a jointed mechanical stalk; these three stalk-eyes allowed him to see in three different directions at once, a function Wadsworth was quite proud of. He had explained to Audrey once that more sight allowed him to better attend to the needs of his 'Mistress' as he sometimes called her. Extending from his base were three highly articulate arms, each adorned with a distinctive tool; a general purpose grasping hand on one, a high-powered circular saw on another, and the final arm sporting a pest-eradicating flame thrower. He also came equipped with integrated liquid condensers for extracting moisture from the air and converting it to purified water.

"Ah, and so the great explorers return from their journey," Wadsworth announced as he reached the bottom of the staircase. He spoke with the accent of a quintessential English butler. "I do hope you did not run into any trials along the –" he paused upon seeing Fawkes' shoulder. "Well, it was a nice thought anyway."

"Oh don't worry about that, Wadsworth," Audrey said. "We actually had a very lovely time. You would have enjoyed being there."

"Oh? Do tell, Madame."

"You would have loved it. Fawkes and I shared a romantic dinner while listening to the beautiful melodies of the _1812 Overture_ and watching an airstrike." She sighed in feigned melancholy and struck a swooning pose. "It was the perfect evening, over all too soon."

Wadsworth's eyestalks flexed in annoyance. "Madame, I don't know what is worse; the fact that the only fabrication in your previous statement is any romantic involvement between you and Fawkes, or knowing that everything else you said was the truth and no longer being surprised at it."

Audrey chuckled. "Well, at least you're getting used to me. So, how were things here while we were away?" At this, Wadsworth perked up.

"Splendid, Madame! Absolutely splendid! I am pleased to report that I have restocked the groceries, swept the floor, and tended to the flowerbeds."

"Oh?" she replied with a grin. "I didn't realize your schedule was so full."

Now the robot's eyestalks drooped. "It would be if you weren't so bloody self-sufficient. In truth, I rearranged the food in the fridge to pass the time, brought in some dirt from outside to make vacuuming seem worthwhile, and filled a tin can with sand then shoved a stick in it to convince myself that gardening was a possible hobby for me."

Audrey could sense a familiar debate coming.

"If you will pardon my frankness, Madame," Wadsworth continued. "I fail to see what relevance my employment to you has if I am unable to see to your every wish."

"Your primary duty is to keep me 'happy and entertained' is it not?" Audrey countered, as she had done countless times before. Wadsworth tended to have a complex about feeling needed. "I'd say you do that quite well."

"Forgive me Madame, but if keeping your bangs trimmed, telling you jokes, and supplying you with purified drinking water is the extent of my resume while in your employ, then I think my skills are far underused."

"Tell you what, if and when I ever come home in a body cast, you can knock yourself out caring for me." She held up her hand in the symbol used by the Old World Boy Scouts. "And I promise not to say anything when you do."

"Is it odd that I look forward to that day, Madame?"

"No, because you're a preprogramed cynic. Now, why don't you go recharge for a while? We'll be fine for now."

"Ah, at last. An order. Even if it is a roundabout dismissal," Wadsworth replied sardonically. "Very well, if anyone needs me, I shall be upstairs, collecting dust." He disappeared back up the stairs and Audrey heard him fold himself up as he reached his charging pad.

After setting aside her Reservist rifle for later cleaning, Audrey headed upstairs to change. She peeled off her form-fitting stealth armor and hung it up on her doorframe to air out. She never had to worry about making the suit stiff, so to speak, as it was infused with nanotechnology. This meant that the armor's nanobots would actually clean and repair the entire unit inside and out if she gave them enough time to do so, with a small dose of Abraxo for the trouble spots. Usually about three to four hours was all they needed for a thorough job.

She returned downstairs wearing a white tank top and a pair of green army fatigue pants, carrying a towel and a basket containing assorted supplies. As she did, Fawkes looked over at her and grunted, then folded his arms and turned away. Audrey rolled her eyes as she set her things on the coffee table and pulled an empty milk crate over to sit down beside him.

"So, this is how it's going to be?" she asked. "You're giving me the silent treatment?" That earned her another grunt. "So you're not even going to consider talking to a beautiful, sexy woman like me?" she winked, slowly running a finger down his muscular arm.

Fawkes briefly flicked his eyes at her, but his expression remained stone-faced and his gaze returned to the front. He knew that Audrey's last tactic was merely a running joke between the two of them which she was now using to crank up the charm and get under his skin as she usually had a great way of doing. He was not in a laughing mood, however, and chose to remain silent.

"Fine," she said, clearly put out. "At least this should get your vocal cords working."

The next instant, Fawkes shrieked and nearly leapt out of his chair as he jerked his arm away and clutched the injured shoulder where Audrey had applied a healthy dose of rubbing alcohol.

"Oh good, he does speak!" Audrey exclaimed wryly. "Now I don't have to emphasize the 'mute' in mutant when describing you."

Fawkes whirled around, his face flush with anger. "How could you do that to me?" he roared. "That's, that's not fighting fair! If you were any other man, I would kill you where you sit!"

"Yeah, but I'm a girl, so you won't, because you love me," Audrey replied matter-of-factly. "And because you love me, you're going to be really nice to me and sit there while I clean and disinfect that blood-encrusted trench on your shoulder."

"My shoulder is fine, thank you," Fawkes said curtly. "Just give me a rag and some duct tape and I'll be good as new."

"Oh really, Mister 'Tis but a Flesh Wound'? Listen, if you don't let me treat this thing, I'm going to mix the rest of this stuff with some table salt and _then_ we'll see how you feel." Audrey threateningly brandished the bottle of alcohol.

A tense silence passed between them, each playing a mental game of chicken with the other. "Fine," Fawkes conceded reluctantly after a moment. "Just don't pour any more of that vile liquid on there."

"Oh, don't you worry about that," Audrey reassured him as she patted his leg. "Now comes the fun part where I get to mine your flesh for any bits of dirt and debris that might be stuck in there."

Fawkes squeezed his eyes shut and cringed as she began her work.

In truth, Audrey was quite skilled in medical treatment. Growing up around her father, who served as the doctor for Vault 101, she had been exposed to a plethora of medicinal knowledge. As a result, she could diagnose and treat anything from radscorpion stings to severe lacerations and beyond. She was in the middle of stitching up the wound when Fawkes broke the silence.

"You know we need to talk, Audrey."

"Oh _now_ you want to talk? This comes after you barely said a word to me on the way to the Lincoln Memorial and then Megaton? I know what this is about, Fawkes, and it is not open for discussion," Audrey replied, not taking her eyes off the task at hand.

"My dear, I do believe it is up for discussion," Fawkes countered. "Any topic is fair game if it involves my friend going on a fool's errand."

"So you think freeing people from slavery is a fool's errand?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Then what _do_ you mean?" Audrey inquired tersely as she clipped the excess thread after finishing the stiches. She then applied a series of large adhesive bandages over the suture line.

"I mean you are walking blindly into a hostile situation," Fawkes scowled. "And doing so alone, all because some rat bastard we met last night told you your companions couldn't hack it. This has 'trap' written all over it!"

You don't think I know that?" Audrey demanded, surprised at the harshness of her voice. She stood up and began to pace about the living room. "This whole situation reeks of foul play, but I'm the only one cut out for the job."

"And you feel this way because?" Fawkes countered. Now he rose out of his chair while Dogmeat watched their exchange from the kitchen. "You are letting your damned convictions get in the way of rational thinking." He pointed an accusing finger at Audrey. "You think you're the only one who abhors the very idea of slavery? I spent more than a hundred years of my life trapped in Vault 87, filling gore bags and shoving captive humans into cells all for scraps of food and time on the Vault's library system!" He paused and took a deep breath to collect himself before he continued.

"I did things, Audrey. Terrible things I now want to kill myself for every day, and all for the pleasure of my super mutant brethren in hopes that I might be able to get by. While I am not excusing my actions then, I was as much of a slave as those three men we freed last night. I have as much of a vested interest as you do. If you are as hell-bent on this as you say you are, let me come with you!" he pleaded. "Whatever destiny lies before us in the Pitt, we can surely see it through better if we were two as opposed to one."

Audrey ceased her pacing and her shoulders slumped. She knew her friend was right, but as she saw it, the circumstances surrounding her needing to go alone were too firmly entrenched. She turned around.

"Fawkes, the truth is that Wernher's the only source of information we have about the current state of the Pitt. He's been there, we haven't. So, as much as I would love to take our two-man/one-dog wrecking crew in there, I have to – albeit reluctantly – trust his judgment. If he says you and Dogmeat will get killed if you set foot in the place, I'm inclined to believe him as we have nothing else to go on. I can't have your deaths on my conscience if he's right."

Fawkes did not look convinced. "And you think I can have it on mine that I sent my only friend off to face who knows what with a complete stranger?" he shot back. "No, not with what I'm reading on your face. I can see it in your eyes, Audrey. You're afraid."

Fawkes' words were spot-on and Audrey felt like she had been verbally gut-checked. She withdrew her true emotions and donned the invisible helmet of the White Knight. "Okay, you're right," she admitted. "The thought of facing the Pitt on my own scares me and putting my life in the hands of a man like Wernher makes it even worse. But I learned an important lesson about fear and that if you give into it, it will hold you back from your true calling."

"Oh? And who taught you that?"

"You did."

Fawkes blinked, clearly not expecting to be the culprit in his own argument. Audrey elaborated further. In her mind's eye, she pictured the moment when, she, her two companions, and Sentinel Sarah Lyons had to make the hardest decision of their lives.

"In the final minutes of the battle of Project Purity, you gave me council that I will never forget. We were all in the rotunda of the Purifier, you, Dogmeat, Sarah Lyons, and I, and we had just received the news that one of us would have to enter the heavily irradiated control room and start the Purifier, lest it explode. Whoever was going in there was ensured a one-way trip and we all knew it.

"I was scared, Fawkes. Here I was faced with two choices: either I die or I willingly watch one of my friends die. But it had to be done. Initially I took the cowards way out when I remembered how resistant you are to radiation. So I asked you, out of fear, to do what I could not. And do you remember what you said to me that day?"

The look on his face clearly indicated that he did. He nodded his head and his eyes became moist as Audrey forced upon him a particularly painful memory.

"You told me we all have our own destinies, and that mine culminated there, at the Purifier."

"And I would not rob you of that," Fawkes finished for her.

"The point is, Fawkes that in order for me to walk my true path and finish the work my father started, I had to face death itself despite the odds. And you know what? I beat them," Audrey stated resolutely. "I activated the Purifier and survived the radiation exposure by ways I can't even fathom. The road to recovery was long and arduous, but the point is I survived and am standing before you today."

Fawkes sat back down and looked soberly at her wiping his eyes as he did. His next words came out in a choked string of syllables. "You will never know, how painful it is for me every time I think of that day. I stuck to a pitiable philosophical idea and because of that, it nearly cost you your life and that of dear Sentinel Lyons."

Audrey knelt down in front of him and tenderly grasped his hand. "It was your 'pitiable philosophical idea' that made me a better woman today. I know this expedition to the Pitt has every indication of becoming a raw deal, but I feel that this is a calling, one I cannot turn down. Unfortunately, it's a calling I need to answer alone." She looked up into his eyes. "If I can beat the odds once, you can damn well bet I can do it again."

"Audrey," Fawkes wept. "I can't bear the thought of losing you again."

"I know," she whispered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "And you'll never have to." She kissed him softly on the forehead, then stood up to collect her towel and some of her things. She started for the door.

"Where are you going, my dear?" Fawkes asked.

Audrey paused as she opened the door. "I'm headed down for a bath. You know, a _real_ bath. Not one of those sponge-n'-go specials I get here at the house." She batted her eyes and assumed a poor southern belle drawl. "Afta' awl, a lady duz hafta' treat huself nice wunce in a while." She smiled and gave him a playful wink as she closed the door behind her.

A light gasp escaped Audrey's lips as the water touched her skin and she felt goose bumps stand at attention along her arms and legs. She closed her eyes and continued to lower herself into the bathtub, her aching muscles tensing upon first contact with the water then slowly relaxing as the warm liquid began to work its magic. Now fully submerged with the exception of her head which now rested on the tub's cool porcelain, she let out a long sigh and with it all of the stress and anxiety she had been bottling up within her. For a fleeting moment, she was completely at peace.

But even a refreshing hot soak wouldn't ease the burden on her mind. Audrey immersed her head under the water in hopes of drowning her troubling thoughts as they came flooding back, but to no avail. It seemed as though the bath was washing away the bravado she had displayed earlier to Fawkes. Looking back on their previous conversation, she was glad she had not revealed to him Wernher's idea of sneaking her in as a slave. If Fawkes had that type of information to go with, any argument she made would count for nothing. Now that she had only herself to talk to, such hidden knowledge became irrelevant, as she could never pull the wool over her own eyes.

"Fawkes is right. What the hell am I trying to prove?" she demanded of the empty room. _I've done more good for the Capital Wasteland than many who came before me and _still_ it will never be enough. _"You can't be everyone's savior, Audrey," she whispered.

She thought back to what had made her decide to go to the Pitt. The second Wernher had said the word 'slaves', it was almost as if a switch had been flipped and she knew then that she was going to have a hand in this operation one way or the other. It had been a rash resolution to be sure, made on the spur of the moment by one emotion; hatred. Hatred of those who preyed upon others weaker than themselves. What other choices had she made based on hatred and anger alike? Take the gun battle at the second SatCom facility: she knew damn well she could have easily avoided it, but she had let her irritation at Defender Rockfowl's inaction do the driving on that one. Because of that, more people – albeit they had been Raiders – were now dead by her hand. "What kind of person would intentionally cause someone else pain by cramming a butter knife into their eye socket?" she asked. _The kind of person who has lost all sense of feeling_, her silent rebuke answered. _What happened when Talon Company hit squads routinely targeted you and your friends? Did you turn the other cheek? No! You went looking for their base of operations and you washed it in blood from the face of earth._ Again, Fawkes' words rang true: 'Convenience and anger do not excuse harshness'. Audrey could now see that in taking the fight to the evils of the Wasteland, she was slowly becoming the very thing she despised. "I've been playing at their level for too long," she conceded. "They should have been playing at mine."

Growing up in Vault 101, she had always been smart, resourceful and confident. There had never been an assignment in school that was too challenging for her. If she encountered bullies harassing another resident, she was always the first one to leap to the victim's defense. If she ever sensed that someone was hurting emotionally, she would show compassion and help that individual work through their troubles. That was before she left the Vault to search for her father. The Wasteland had force-fed her a bitter dose of truth. She had learned quickly that the only trace of law, order, and justice out here was what you made yourself. As a result, she had subconsciously honed many of her youthful virtues into tools of survival. Intelligence became judged by her level of knowledge of weaponry, terrain, and battlefield tactics. Resourcefulness; a measure of how long it took to get out of an ambush. Confidence now manifested itself in numbing adrenaline that convinced her she could take on anyone or anything at any time or anywhere, and come out on top. Her compassion? Audrey chuckled sardonically. Often she found herself seeing compassion as another middle finger she could extend to the world. Another _Screw you! I'm still human_, victory for her.

Feeling the water starting to become lukewarm, she wrapped her bar of soap up in a washcloth and began to thoroughly scrub herself. As she did, she continued her internal debate.

She thought again of her reasoning behind accepting Wernher's suicide errand. Already she had listened to him give her and Fawkes the tactical motivation behind this plan and she herself had already covered the emotional truth and the hollow spiel about destiny. Now the final and purely practical motive came to the surface of her mind. Audrey knew deep down that no one else in the Capital Wasteland, besides Fawkes, could – or more importantly, _would – _make the effort to help those in the Pitt. When Wernher had first explained the plight of his people, she had immediately thought of the Brotherhood of Steel as the perfect solution to his problem. Further details from Wernher had all but shut down that notion, however, and her own private knowledge did the rest.

The fact of the matter was that the Brotherhood could not feasibly pull off such an operation at this time. There were two reasons: one, the presence of the Enclave still posed a viable threat to the region and while the Brotherhood soldiers certainly had the upper hand in the campaign, they simply did not have the numbers to devote to spread between two volatile locations; two, the Brotherhood had already been to the Pitt, and Audrey could not think of one of them that would willingly go back. The Brotherhood, she had been told, had stopped in the Pitt in 2255 on their trek to scout out the ruined cities on the eastern seaboard. Expecting to pick through the wreckage for salvageable technology, they instead found a den of heavily mutated and diseased cannibalistic butchers. Faced with a sea of human horrors beyond imagination, Elder Lyons – then but a Star Paladin of the Brotherhood – led what would become known as the Scourge. Outmanned but not outgunned, Lyons and the Brotherhood swept through the city, putting down any of the animalistic denizens who resisted. The entire operation took all of one night. When the dust had settled, hundreds of corpses littered the streets, the surviving soldiers traipsing numbly through the mountains of the dead. The only bright spot of the entire battle was the recovery of several non-mutated children who the Brotherhood would later place into initiate training; one of those children being Paladin Kodiak who had shared this knowledge with Audrey in the first place. After being told of these events, she could clearly see that although the Brotherhood had managed to achieve one of the greatest humanitarian victories in history, doing so had come at a great personal cost to them, both physically and psychologically. Among the Brotherhood, the Pitt and the Scourge were only mentioned in whispers and those who heard would unconsciously avert their eyes while trying to avoid the subject.

_No_, she thought as she gave her body a final rinse. _If you walk away now, you'll never forgive yourself for leaving innocent people out to dry. _Whether she liked it or not, Audrey decided then and there that she was in it for the long haul. She exited the tub, towel-dried herself, and changed into a clean tank top and shorts.

As she ran a brush through her damp hair, a realization struck her and she mentally kicked herself for not thinking of it before. Until this moment, it hadn't even registered with her that Wernher had made the comment about her wearing a Stealth Boy. The wrist mounted stealth field generators he had referred to had very weak batteries that could only sustain a field for roughly ten minutes. Even ten minutes was pushing it as the devices would often short out in less time. Wernher's entire plan had revolved around her being visible, but with her stealth armor, she would be able to slip in unnoticed without any problem. She wouldn't have to go under the whip after all! _See what happens when you stop drowning in a bath of depression? Good things appear from in between the lines._ Audrey gathered her bathing supplies and walked back home, this time with more of a spring in her step than when she had left.

When she returned home, she found that Fawkes was not there. As she closed the door, she found Dogmeat looking up at her with droopy eyes from his napping spot in the corner and she wasn't all that surprised to see Wadsworth up and around once more. The robot had an internal schedule as unique as his personality.

"Did you enjoy your hot soak, Mistress?" he asked as he puttered around the kitchen. "I do hope you found it most refreshing."

"I did actually," Audrey replied as she ascended the stairs. "Do you have any idea where Fawkes wandered off to?" she called down when she reached the top landing.

"I'm not entirely sure, ma'am. He left not long after you did, saying something about making an appeal."

"An appeal? What do you mean?"

"Madame, as sad as it is to admit, I have grown accustomed to functioning in a world that is but a blasted remnant of my intended working environment. As a result, I've become used to taking the limited conversational tendencies of a giant green man who wears a Gatling laser cannon as a fashion statement, in stride. In short, you could get more information on his whereabouts by waterboarding a rock than you could by asking me, as he does not see fit to communicate with me that often."

Audrey chuckled as she stood up from where she had been leaning on the railing. Wadsworth, though a robot, possessed a dry wit that was as sharp as a musketeer's rapier. She entered into her room and after putting up her bathing items, headed back down to clean her Reservist rifle. Her foot had nearly left the top landing when she noticed a trail of white powder leading from Fawkes' room which also doubled as a storage space. Curious, she stuck her head in and saw that the shelf which normally held the boxes of Abraxo all-purpose powdered cleaner was now empty. Before, there had been five. The powder trail on the floor began there. Audrey exited the room and followed the powder trail downstairs where she found that it led into the kitchen.

"Wadsworth, what happened to all of the Abraxo?"

The Mister Handy bounced on his thruster as if he had flown over a tack. "Madame, you startled me. I did not realize you had come back down. What can I do for you?"

"The Abraxo? This powder? You know anything about that?" Audrey asked.

Wadsworth's eyestalks drooped sheepishly. "Oh…that. I'm terribly sorry for the mess, Madame, but, while you were out drawing your bath, I picked up a particularly rank odor emanating from your duffle bag. It appears to have come from these." He reached into the sink and held up a sopping wet pile of rags.

Audrey's face immediately reddened as she identified the steaming pile of cloth as the garments she had procured from the deceased slave. "Oh, um…about those… Wait, how did you pick up an odor? You can't smell."

"Ah yes, you are quite correct, Madame," said Wadsworth, extending his cutting arm as one would raise an index finger in concession of a point. "However, I do possess other faculties to make up for my lack of organic senses."

Audrey cocked an eyebrow and folded her arms, clearly intrigued. Wadsworth continued.

"I am equipped with a highly sensitive particle scanner that monitors the quality of the air in my work environment. It has been calibrated to detect certain air molecules that constitute a malodourous aroma to the human olfactory sense. For example, whenever Dogmeat produces an involuntary expression of flatulence, the scanner immediately picks it up and rates the odor according to its, er…lethality. In response, I am programed to take whatever actions are necessary to eradicate the foul scent from the general vicinity."

"Out of pure curiosity, what rating does Dogmeat get?"

"On average, a five. Though he does have his darker moments."

"Dare I ask what the rags got?"

"I'm not sure if there is a verbal description to accurately characterize this smell." Wadsworth paused for a moment, his internal processors directing algorithmic logic. "Let me put it to you this way: my particle scanner executed the realistic equivalent of dividing by zero; its universe imploded."

"I can't imagine why," Audrey said dryly. "But that still doesn't explain the Abraxo."

"I do apologize about that, Madame, but the rags were so filthy I had to use an entire box, on one pant leg," Wadsworth explained. "The other four went to the remaining pant leg, both sleeves and the torso. This is the first time in the entire cleaning process that the clothes haven't been stiff enough to be mistaken for a serving platter. All in all, I'd call it quite an accomplishment." He shook out the rags, looking very pleased with himself. "Pardon my inquisitiveness, Madame, but where did you get them?"

Audrey quickly made her way over to the workbench and began disassembling the Reservist rifle in an effort to dodge the question. "I, um…they were a gift."

"A gift?" Wadsworth squawked. "Madame, if I may be so bold, by human standards you are a fine specimen of a woman, and any rapscallion who conveys such rubbish to a lover as a form of affection is absolutely beneath your level."

Audrey who had just finished removing the rifle's action, turned around to face Wadsworth, her mouth slightly open in amused surprise. "Wadsworth, I think that's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"I do what I am able, Madame," he replied.

"To answer your question though, I did not get these from some deranged suitor. These were a private acquisition for a trip I'm taking."

"_Were_ an acquisition?"

"Yes, I was initially told I would need these in order to take my little safari, abroad. However, after some time to logically think things through, I've determined those rags are no longer of use to me. I do appreciate you making an effort to clean them though." She smiled warmly.

"It was no trouble at all, Madame. Shall I dispose of these then?" The tone of Wadsworth's voice indicated he had been silently hoping to do just that since opening Audrey's duffle bag.

"Yes, but do it outside please." Audrey instructed. "And do it with fire, _lots_ of fire."

"Fire? Madame, I believe we are currently under a burn ban."

"I think the folks back in 2077 pretty much voided that whole burn ban concept when they dropped the bombs, don't you?"

"True enough, Madame," Wadsworth admitted. "But what will I say to Sherriff Simms should he take exception to this?"

"That you're on your smoke break," came the flat reply.

"As you wish, Madame," said Wadsworth as he toted the still steaming pile of cloth slag to the door. "If you hear shouting, you will know that the Sherriff is not a Marlborough man," he added as he left.

Audrey spent the next several minutes cleaning and oiling her now disassembled sniper rifle. Once she had put everything back together, she went upstairs and stood facing the far wall. Displayed on the wall was a mostly-intact map of the pre-war United States, complete with the country's thirteen commonwealth divisions which had been established shortly after the conclusion of World War II.

The map had been a rare find for Audrey during a scavenging run through a ruined school. While most paper materials had been incinerated during the apocalypse, this little gem had been tucked away in a sealed basement chamber. She had been surprised by its relatively good condition as the print and graphic data were still legible after centuries of neglect. The only fault she could find with the map was the presence of burned hole where the state of Texas would normally be. Upon finding traces of tobacco ashes after further examination, she wasn't entirely sure the hole's location was purely coincidental. Since acquiring it she had made several changes – or updates as she liked to think of them – to the document. Now the map tended to reflect more of the current regional flavor of post-apocalyptic society. Washington D.C. now bore its current moniker of the Capital Wasteland and Los Angeles – the Boneyard. Most of this geographical information, aside from that which regarded her local surroundings, came from Brotherhood Scribes who collectively possessed the knowledge of many Brotherhood chapters scattered across the country.

Starting at the Capital Wasteland, she traced an invisible line with her finger a short distance to the northwest on the map. It came to rest above the unassuming settlement of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania – also known in current times, as the Pitt. She did some quick mental calculations. Using the map's scale, she figured it was about two-hundred fifty straight line miles between the two regions, not counting of course the alternate routes she and Wernher would probably have to take. She paced back and forth for a few moments, debating with herself on how much in the way of supplies to take on a journey for which she did not know the duration. In the end, she settled on two weeks' worth of clothing and provisions. She presumed even if those provisions lasted only for the trip up, she could always procure return supplies from the Pitt itself as it was technically a settlement, albeit an enslaved one.

Downstairs, the front door opened and Wadsworth returned from his labors, his hull sporting a distinctive scorch pattern.

"What happened to you?" Audrey called down to him.

Wadsworth raised his eyes to peer up at her. "Madame, I do believe that Abraxo residue acts as an accelerant."

"Oh God!" Audrey gasped. "You didn't burn anything down did you?"

"Fortunately no, Madame, I did not. However, some of Megaton's residents were left wondering whether the weapons-grade tourist attraction in the center of town had er, how shall I say? Blown its top?"

"Did Sherriff Simms say anything?"

"Yes he did, much in fact. However, I managed to dissuade him of the notion of locking me up on charges of potential arson when I informed him that the destruction of the rags was an act of public service. Upon finding the ashes still carried a toxic whiff about them, he reluctantly agreed."

Audrey started to reply, but found that this moment was one of many in her life for which neither explanation nor comeback was available. She went into her room and leaned her head back against the rusted steel wall. She knew that even though she had convinced herself to undertake Wernher's impossible task, it would be the intelligent thing to create a backup plan in case things completely went to hell. Her stealth armor might defend against enemy eyesight, but it could not stave off the unexpected. And the unexpected, as she knew, sometimes struck with a vengeance. She had a Plan B in mind, but in order to put it into place she would require assistance.

"Wadsworth," she called. "I need you to do something for me."


	5. Chapter 5

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 5.**

**_Author's Note:_  
><strong>

**_So, chapter 5 in a nutshell: finishing what chapter 4 started, the whole we-need-plot-fleshing-page-filling-head-drama kick. I guess if I had to pick the main highlight of this chapter, I'd say it reveals another layer of close relationship between Audrey and Fawkes. Once again, sorry to say, but no one dies in this chapter either. Is there a light at the end of the tunnel? Yes, dear readers! The carnage ensues once more in chapter 6. Thank you once again for sticking with me thus far, and feel free to give me feedback on anything you see, good or bad. On a side note, expect chapter 6 to be ready in about a month...ish. It won't be posted until the first draft of chapter 8 is complete and I'm about half way through that one right now. This will probably be the trend from now until completion: post, write 2 1/3 to 2 1/2 chapters ahead, post again. Now, go read!_**

**_- T. Fett_**

* * *

><p>Audrey's eyes fluttered open at the sound of the front door quietly closing. Having completed her packing for the journey, she had allowed sleep to overtake her as there was nothing else for her to really do until the following day. She looked and found the time to be just after 11:30 at night. <em>Could this be Fawkes coming home?<em> If not, whoever it was had to be one of the stupidest home invaders in the world.

Stifling a yawn, she listened as heavy footsteps came up the stairs. She rose from her bed and peeked around the door frame in time to see a hulking form disappear into the guest room.

"Fawkes?" she asked, sticking her head in the door.

Fawkes turned from where he was arranging a blanket on the couch. "Oh, hello my dear," he said, keeping his voice barely above a whisper, despite the fact that there was no one else in the house to rouse. "I had hoped not to wake you."

Audrey dismissed this with a wave of her hand. "Don't worry about it. May I come in?"

"Certainly, certainly. Please, sit down," Fawkes said as he cleared a small stack of books off a chair opposite the couch. He sat across from her and the couch groaned in protest as it took on a distinct V-shape. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing really, Audrey yawned, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. "I was just wondering where you went. You had gone by the time I returned from my bath and Wadsworth said you were making an appeal? Is everything okay?"

Fawkes laughed softly. "I had hoped not to say anything as it sounds horribly cliché. But since you asked," he raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'll tell you."

Audrey made herself comfortable in the chair as Fawkes continued.

"The robot was right in that I did go to make an appeal. After you left for your bath, I thought a great deal on what we had talked about. Gradually, I came to the conclusion that I would need to call upon a higher power to make you come to your senses. Or if not that, at least provide you safety during your travels. So, I went down to the Church of Atom to make my requests."

"Wait. You went to the Church of Atom on my behalf?" Audrey said, not quite believing what she was hearing. "As in the we're-such-a-cult-that-we-worship-a-freaking-bomb Church of Atom?" She folded her arms and looked at him quizzically. "Honestly, Fawkes. I never would have pegged you for the type."

Fawkes rolled his eyes. "Please, Audrey. Do you really think I give any credence to that brahmin crap they call doctrine? I no more believe in their false deity than I do in the safety of your mission." At this, Audrey winced a little. She knew she'd earned that rebuke.

"No," Fawkes continued. "To me, a church is a church, no matter the setting. I went to pray to our Lord above that He might soften your mind to the notion of staying behind, or if nothing else, shelter and protect you on the long dark road ahead. And," he held up a finger to stop Audrey from interjecting. "If you're wondering how I managed to convince those nut-jobs in the Church to let me pray to our one true God, it was quite simple. All I had to do was throw some garbage in my vocal prayers about how Atom was the man and other ridiculous notions. That, and a few angry growls don't hurt either; in fact they tend to get you some privacy. You should try it sometime."

Audrey chuckled. "Yeah, sure. Somehow I don't think it would have nearly the same effect for me as it does for you. At most, I think Confessor Cromwell would just look at me funny."

"He probably would," Fawkes agreed. "If the fool would ever take his addled eyes of that damn bomb long enough to see he was receiving the same from everyone else."

"That aside, thank you, Fawkes," Audrey said, smiling warmly. "I'll probably need all the guardian angels I can get where I'm going. But surely you couldn't have been talking to God that long. You must have gone somewhere after that."

Fawkes grinned. "While I did spend a great deal of time conversing with our Heavenly Father, I did head to Moriarty's to get drunk afterwards."

Audrey looked taken aback. "You? Drunk? I never thought I'd see the day," she remarked, noticing for the first time the smell of alcohol on his breath.

"And you never will," Fawkes replied. "Another gift of my altered physiology is a metabolism that acts like it runs on chems. In short, after nine or so bottles of Moriarty's top shelf, I remembered that I can't get drunk. So after spending about three hours disinfecting my digestive tract, I came back here and am now sitting in my room, talking with you. I trust you are now completely up to date on my current state of affairs?"

"No," Audrey teased. She turned on her Pip-Boy's flashlight and held it over him. "Where were you on the night of the fifteenth?"

Fawkes stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, probably out getting shot at with you," he quipped, not missing a beat.

"But hey, all kidding aside; are you sure you're okay?" Audrey asked leaning forward. "I know how you feel about me leaving for this operation and I just want you to know I respect your opinion." She lowered her eyes. "I'm just not sure if I can honor it."

"Well you can be sure of this," Fawkes stated firmly. "I am not, nor will I ever be comfortable sending you off on such an errand alone. But, if there is one thing my conversations with God accomplished it's that He gave me a peace about the fact that I would not be able to change your mind. We both know it's clearly made up." He gave Audrey a knowing look. "He also gave me peace in knowing that you would be provided for on your journey, no matter what the circumstances. I guess in all this, I may take some solace."

"So God actually told you these things, verbatim? And here I thought He'd all but given up on the world after 2077."

"While He did not exactly appear to me as a burning bush, I felt a calming warmth spread over the cold doubting areas of my heart." Fawkes paused and wrung his hands. "I guess what I'm trying to say Audrey is that while He did not take away my reservations about your plan, He did however give me the strength to let you go. To let you see it though."

Audrey shoulders slumped and stab of guilt pierced her. Up until now she had never fully grasped how her leaving would affect Fawkes. By walking out that door, she was going to crush him and she knew it. After hearing Fawkes' words, she only felt more convinced that she was betraying him on some level by leaving. She felt sick inside and felt her eyes starting to well up with tears. "Fawkes, I…I'm not sure I really know what to say. I –"

Fawkes leaned forward and gently put a finger to her lips. "You don't have to say anything, my dear. All you have to do is come back to me when this is all over. Understand?"

Audrey sucked on her lips and nodded. She started to get up to leave, but Fawkes motioned her to sit back down.

"Audrey, you have your opinions and judgments and I most certainly have mine. Let us not let either set cause tension between us now. So, with both of us agreeing that you are embarking on this assignment, tell me, what all are you taking with you?" He gave her a calm and reassuring look, as if to say she wouldn't have to defend herself to him anymore.

Audrey briefly outlined for Fawkes the provisions and weaponry she would be taking to the Pitt. He was pleased that she had not decided to bring her Reservist rifle along and agreed with her alternate choice. While a sniper rifle would have been ideal for taking pot shots at unsuspecting foes, Audrey knew that its weight and length would not be ideal for maneuvering quickly in an urban environment. Instead, she'd opted for her Ultra SMG crafted by Sydney Ives, a friend of hers who also happened to be the finest weapons manufacturer in the Capital Wasteland. While the Reservist packed enough firepower to punch clean through an armored sentry bot, the SMG spit out more lead and came in a much smaller package. Ideal for travel and death-dealing on the go. What made the SMG part of the 'Ultra' series was that it had been modified to carry more 10mm rounds than its standard variant – fifty as opposed to thirty – and the mechanics of the gun had been streamlined so as to give the weapon a considerably higher rate of fire. Essentially, it was a pocket minigun.

She continued to run through her list which included enough food for two weeks worth of travel, a few sets of clothes, her stealth armor, stimpacks and other assorted first aid items, and finally her personal pride and joy: her katana. This had been a coup of a find while combing through the lower halls of the Smithsonian Museum of World History. Part of a traveling collection of ancient Japanese relics, this blade had resided in a special pressurized case underneath a mountain of rubble. If Audrey's Pip-Boy light hadn't caught the glint of the steel box, she would have missed it. The sword inside was a wonder of the post-apocalyptic world. Once belonging to a forgotten samurai, the blade had been perfectly preserved and maintained for centuries, still sharp enough to divide a dropped piece of paper. From point to pommel, the sword maintained a startling degree of precise balance; it was hard to imagine it had been the product of hand forging and not computerized machine tooling. Audrey loved the occasions when she was able to use it; it – and the melee training provided to her by the Brotherhood of Steel – made her feel like The Bride, the nameless, sword-wielding heroine of a comic book she read repeatedly as a child.

"I know all these things are necessary, but the rat-bast – er, Wernher, is going to say you pack like a girl," Fawkes remarked after she had outlined everything for him.

"And why not?" Audrey asked. "I have boobs and put things in bags. You're damn right I pack like a girl."

Fawkes shook his head. "Don't you need sleep?"

Audrey yawned reflexively at this. "Yeah, I suppose so. Though, there is one other item I need to discuss with you. You can't tell anyone I've left the Capital Wasteland."

"Huh?" Fawkes looked genuinely perplexed. "What does not telling people have to do with anything?"

"Fawkes, you know what kind of reputation I carry around these parts. Whether I like it or not, the very fact that I breathe the air in D.C. gives people a reason to feel secure," she explained. "And even if they won't readily admit it, knowing you're at my side gives them additional cause for relief. The point being that every degenerate in the Wasteland, from Enclave soldier to Talon merc is scared to death of you and me."

"And for good reason," Fawkes muttered, cracking his knuckles.

"Yes, for good reason," Audrey continued. "This is why people have to believe that I'm still here. Think about it, if word got out that the Lone Wanderer had skipped town, there'd be anarchy for sure. From Megaton to Rivet City, the psychos of the Capital Wasteland would no doubt wreak havoc on all the good we've done here. Needless to say we can't have that, can we?" In any other life, the scenario she had just postulated would have been labeled beyond absurd. But in Audrey's life, it was simply the state of affairs.

"Alright, I will keep your departure a secret," Fawkes assured. "What shall I tell those who ask for you?"

Audrey scratched her head thoughtfully. "Umm, tell them I'm out doing recon, or something vague to that effect. You'll think of something I'm sure." She stood up, yawned once more, and headed for her room. "Oh well, might as well relish the last night in my own bed for a while."

"Do make sure to keep your relishing at an inside volume, Madame," came a sleepy robotic voice. "Some of us are trying to recharge here."

Audrey stopped dead in her tracks, stunned, and looked over to where Wadsworth was lazily raising an eyestalk at her.

"What the hell, man?" she gaped. "I just got burned by a robot!" Behind her, Fawkes had fallen off the couch, he was laughing so hard. Now Audrey whirled on him. "Et tu, Fawkese?" This only served to make him laugh harder.

She threw her hands up in the air. "Fine, screw you both! I'm going to bed." She stormed into her room.

"Be sure to do Wadsworth last, my dear," Fawkes called after her. "I'd hate to get secondhand tetanus."

From his spot on the floor, he could hear Audrey punch something, followed by, "Really? Really! _REALLY?"_ This was followed, in turn, by another punch. He would later look in and find a fist-shaped impression in her filing cabinet.

* * *

><p>The morning air was cool and crisp. Audrey enjoyed the taste as she filled her lungs with it, trying to take in what she could of the Capital Wasteland. She wanted to capture the sensations of home in her mind. When she would be seeing it again, she did not know. Presently, she, Fawkes, and Dogmeat were hoofing it back to the train tunnel where they were supposed to rendezvous with Wernher. They had left Megaton around five that morning, and after two hours, they were making good progress. With no slaves to shepherd this go around, their travel time was drastically reduced.<p>

It was times like these that Audrey really missed her stealth armor. For the purposes of this trip, she had opted for a battered suit of military combat armor with a matching Kevlar helmet, her lucky sunglasses shielding her eyes from the sand and light. Being able to turn invisible at will had spoiled her, of that she had no doubt. Now she felt exposed out in the middle of the wastes. She still had the suit with her though; it and her black helmet were now tucked neatly into the oversized duffle bag she had slung across her back. She wanted to keep them concealed from Wernher, just in case he took exception to her not following his plan to the letter. The only drawback was that they added twenty-three pounds to the load she was already carrying. Fawkes had offered to carry a portion of her supplies, but she had politely declined. Unless Wernher had wheels of some sort, they would most likely be traveling on foot and she needed to get used to carrying her own apportioned weight. All in all, her bag was heavy, but manageable.

At about ten o'clock, they arrived at the former slaver camp. They found Wernher leaning up against one of the overturned boxcars. He had a pocket knife out and was whittling on a stick. When he saw them, he tossed the stick to the ground so that its newly sharpened end embedded itself in the soil. He bore an annoyed expression on his face.

"Bout fucking time you showed up, Hero," he spat. "I tell you to hurry and you take a goddamn holiday!"

"It's nice to see you too, Wernher," Audrey remarked. "What's that? Why no, I didn't happen to run into any nasty things on my way here. Thank you for asking," she said, continuing her one-sided conversation.

"Whatever, Hero," Wernher replied, brushing her off. "And what are _they_ doing here?" He pointed at Fawkes and Dogmeat. "Did I not say you had to go alone? Didn't you listen to a fu – "

"We're here to say goodbye. You know, it's something friends do," Fawkes interjected. "We're here for her. Not for you." His tone became flat. "Honestly if you were to die at some point on this journey, I'm pretty sure I would not care. At all."

"Piss off, mutie," Wernher scoffed.

"Make me."

"Fuck you."

"You'd break off."

"_Gentlemen_!" Audrey raised her voice and pushed herself in between them. "Enough with the pissing contest! Wernher, where do we start from?"

"Inside the train tun– "

"Great. Meet me there. Fawkes, Dogmeat; come with me." She started walking in the opposite direction.

Wernher started. "Where the hell do you think you're go– "

"_Train tunnel! Now_,"Audrey blasted back, not breaking stride. She kept going until she found a secluded place amongst the camp's shacks.

She turned to face them, took a deep breath then exhaled slowly, trying to get her temper under control. She couldn't believe she was going to be spending so much time with such a prick. It was then, looking at her two friends that the magnitude of her decision fell on her like the proverbial anvil. This was it. She could still turn back, tell Wernher to find somebody else, or take Fawkes with her despite the risks. She felt numb and sick to her stomach. Words left her and all she could do was stand there silently, her eyes locked on nothing in particular.

"Audrey?" Fawkes prompted, waving his hand in front of her. "Anyone home?"

"Oh, um…yeah," she mumbled, trying to collect her emotions. "I, uh, I just really suck at goodbyes." She began to unconsciously chew her lower lip.

"Well, suck it up and give a mutant a hug will you?" Fawkes replied, denying her shelter in her copout.

He didn't wait for Audrey to react, instead pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her in a great bear hug. Despite nearly losing her balance after the unexpected onslaught of affection, she managed to squeeze her arms out and return the favor. She found that she didn't want to let go of the big mutant. Fawkes now seemed like the anchor keeping her tethered to safety. Finally, she reluctantly released him, severing the anchor's chain. She then knelt down to love on Dogmeat one last time. He whined at her and proceeded to lick her face.

"Yes, yes. Thank you. Thank you. Yes, I love you too. Yes, thank you," she said between his slobber-filled kisses. She ruffled his fur. "You going to be a good dog for Fawkes while I'm gone?"

This prompted a single emphatic bark.

"Good, because I'd hate to have to bring out Moira's repellent stick if you misbehave. Oh, that's right. You developed an immunity to her formula and gnawed the thing to splinters. How could I forget?"

Dogmeat panted nonchalantly at the mention of this. It made Audrey smile too.

"Hero!" Wernher's voice sounded like fingernails grating on a chalkboard. "Let's go!"

Fawkes put a hand on Audrey's shoulder and turned her away from Wernher. He leaned down to her and spoke in a hushed tone. "My dear, as a going away present, I insist you let me beat him to a bloody pulp."

"No you're not doing that," she whispered back.

"_Please_," Fawkes beseeched, still keeping his voice low. "If you won't let me turn him into paste, at least permit me to break his legs!"

"No."

"I'll be quiet about it, I promise. He won't even scream."

"Because you'll have killed him!"

"That's beside the point!"

Audrey put her hands up in exasperation. "Fine, I have to go now. Not because I want to. Not because of the slaves. But because I can't have you and Wernher within fifty miles of each other!" She started to turn and walk towards the tunnel, but Fawkes caught her and spun her around. He looked her square in the face.

"Now you listen to me," his tone now serious, all traces of humor gone. "I don't give a damn what you accomplish, good or bad; success or failure. You come back, you understand? You are more valuable to the Capital Wasteland – and to me – than you will ever know. I –" He paused, the words catching in his throat. "_We_, can't lose you."

Before Audrey could say anything, Fawkes turned and strode out of the slaver camp, not once looking back. Dogmeat lingered for a moment more, his eyes casting an imploring look toward her. Then he too left, bounding after Fawkes in his wake. Audrey stood there for a moment, watching the two of them until they faded out of sight. Every fiber of her being wanted to follow after them, but she knew she had to do otherwise. There were people counting on her, people who would spend the rest of their lives in chains if she didn't act.

"Snap out of it, Audrey," she scolded herself. _You're the queen of survival and adaptation. This is your show._

She walked toward the train tunnel, her feet feeling like they were made of lead. No matter how much bravado she tried to conjure up from within, she couldn't shake the feeling of being a brahmin headed for slaughter. She opened the service entrance door and headed down a short maintenance hallway out into the gloom of the main tunnel where Wernher waited expectantly. Leaning against a large mass shrouded by a gray tarp, he was lighting up a cigarette as she approached. Audrey unslung her duffle and dropped it near his feet.

"You shouldn't have brought the green man along," he chided her. "If it weren't for him, we'd be out of here a whole lot soo–" He never finished the sentence as a right cross from Audrey connected with his jaw and sent the cigarette flying out of his mouth. He staggered then righted himself, his body language indicating that he was spoiling for a fight. "What the hell was that for?" he demanded.

"Let's you and me get one thing straight. Right here, right now," Audrey hissed, closing the gap between them and stopping less than a foot from Wernher. I may be sticking my neck out for you, but under no circumstances does that mean I have to put up with your shit. And that shit includes _any _spiteful comments you may have about my friend." Wernher didn't even blink at this. "If I hear even one syllable out of your mouth that sounds like it's being used to disparage Fawkes, I will take time out my busy schedule to smash both your kneecaps and leave your ass high and dry. Are we clear?"

The entire time she had been speaking, Wernher had been glaring at her contemptuously. He massaged his jaw. "I thought we were on the same side, Hero."

"It's Audrey, and we _are_ on the same side, Wernher. I'm here, with you, risking my life to save your people. How much more on your side do I need to get?"

"Is it going to be like this the entire trip?"

"I hope not. Is that how you want it to be?"

"No."

"Good."

"Can I say something?"

"You may." Their eyes were locked and had not strayed from the other's gaze.

"Great. You want things clear? Okay, now it's my turn," Wernher said acidly. Before Audrey knew what had happened, Wernher had dropkicked her and planted her flat on her back. He pinned her to the ground and crammed the barrel of his .44 magnum against her temple. "I don't know who you think you are, but these are _my _people and this is _my_ operation. You follow my rules, you live. You break 'em, you die." He pulled back the hammer on the gun. "You are the last hope for the Pitt and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you and your ego fuck up everything I've worked for. Now, are we clear?"

"Crystal," Audrey grunted through clenched teeth.

"Good," Wernher said stiffly.

He holstered his weapon and stood up, offering her his hand. Audrey hesitated a moment before taking it and let Wernher help her up. They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Wernher extended his callused hand again.

"I'm in. Are you?"

"Like I have a choice?" Audrey replied dryly.

"I wish you did, Hero. Believe me, I do."

"It's Audrey, and…whatever," she sighed. She clamped down on Wernher's hand and the two shook.

"Well," Wernher said, cracking his neck. "Now that we know I can kick your ass and you can kick mine, are we ready to go?"

"Sure, why not," Audrey sighed again as swung her duffle onto her back. She switched on her Pip-Boy light and started walking down the tunnel.

Wernher shook his head as he watched her go. He lit up another cigarette. "Where are you going?" he called out after a little bit.

Audrey stopped and balled her fists, fighting the urge to bang her head against a wall. She suddenly felt very tired and she hadn't even walked twenty feet. "To the Pitt, Wernher. Where else would I be going?" she groaned in irritation.

"You want to walk as opposed to ride?"

"Ride what? I'm looking around and I'm seeing…nothing. So yeah, I'm walking."

"Fine, suit yourself."

Audrey heard a rustling behind her and turned around to see Wernher pulling the tarp off the unknown object. With all the stress in the past few minutes, she had completely forgotten about it. Underneath was one of the strangest things she'd ever seen. It was like a train car, but shorter and missing the walls and roof. A pole protruded from the center of the contraption with a duel-handled crossbar straddling the top of it on a pivoting hinge.

"What on earth is that?" she asked, walking back to indulge her curiosity.

"This? This is called transportation, Hero," Wernher said cynically.

Audrey shot him a sideways glance. "I know that. It's just, I haven't encountered a train like this before. That is what this is…right?" she probed, examining the machine's rail wheels.

Wernher stopped folding up the tarp and looked at her dubiously. "It's a handcar. Are you telling me you've never seen a handcar?"

This made Audrey blush. "No." she mumbled.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me," Wernher exhaled heavily. "Of all the gun-toting psychos out here, I happen to pick the sheltered one. Where'd you grow up anyway, a cave?"

Audrey coughed. "Actually, you aren't far off the mark there. I take it by the lack of a reactor, we power it ourselves?"

"Right you are, Hero. Maybe there's hope for you yet. Now get that refrigerator off your back and onto the car," Wernher ordered. "Jeez, judging by the size of that thing, you really do pack like a gir–"

"Shut up."


	6. Chapter 6

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 6.**

**_Author's Note:_  
><strong>

**_Okay...so I lied...it took over two months for this stuff to go down. That's what happens when you have a job shakeup, car trouble, and other assorted creative distractions. So chapter 6 is up and this time we get back to the business of killing things as so many of you have been dying to return to in this story. I'm sorry for the horrendously long delay on this one, but chapter 8 did take a long time to come together. Chapter 9's outlook is more positive as it is made of up more lively dialogue and much much less descriptive detail. So that tends to make me think it will be done sooner. Now go read - review - and enjoy!_**

**_- T. Fett_**

* * *

><p>By the time they made camp at the end of the first day, Audrey felt as though her arms were going to fall off. They had been traveling for nearly eight hours straight, taking only short intermittent breaks to keep them – namely Audrey – from passing out. Muscles she never knew she possessed screamed for a breather, but she was quickly learning those would only come few and far between. Although she and Wernher were only averaging about five miles per hour in terms of velocity, the constant up and down motion of pumping the car became tiring very fast. Wernher didn't seem to give this much thought, however. He pushed and pulled on his end of the drive handle like a man possessed. When Audrey needed to take a break for a minute or two, he would seem to pump faster to compensate. Clearly he wanted to get her to the Pitt as soon as possible.<p>

They stopped for the night at the end of a stub line, a short off-shoot from the main track that dead-ended in a wheelstop. At the end of the tunnel, an emergency light flickered sporadically, providing discontinuous illumination for this darkened section of track. The dying lamps of the handcar added a minuscule glow at best. Wernher hopped off the handcar and began to feel his way along one of the walls.

"Thing should be around here somewhere," he muttered. "Hey Hero, make sure the brake's engaged then pump up the lights. I can't see a thing."

"Gee, maybe that's because we're in the middle of an underground rail line that just so happens to be, oh what's the term?" Audrey made a show of fumbling for the word. "Ah yes, dark!" She switched on her Pip-Boy's light. "Happy now?"

Wernher flashed her a dirty look that not even the shadows could conceal. He pushed past her and slammed the brake lever into park. "Pump 'em up anyway," he growled.

Audrey opted not to egg him on and instead pumped the crossbar vigorously. Inside the handcar, a magnet rigged to the drive pump passed back and forth through a coil of copper wire. A capacitor captured the electrical current generated then passed it on to the car's headlamps. Gradually, the beams of light from the headlamps increased in intensity and gave the stub line more definition. Audrey could now see a small door set into the wall to her left and a switch that looked very out of place on the wall to her right.

"Damn," Wernher said, cursing himself. "I always forget which side that stupid thing is on." He walked over and hit the switch. With a metallic screech, a large gate lowered out of the ceiling, effectively sealing off the stub from the main line. "Welcome to Station One," he said proudly.

"It looks, cozy," Audrey replied wryly.

"Hey, say what you want, but this is about as close to the William Penn as you're going to get."

"And the William Penn is…what, exactly."

"Sorry," Wernher said as he tapped on the gate to test is structural integrity. "Forgot that I'm talking to an outsider. The Penn was an old swanky hotel in Pittsburgh back in the day. I only know about it because I once led a scav team out there to harvest steel from the ruins. Place is a pile of rubble now."

"I see," Audrey nodded.

Satisfied with the gate, Wernher went to open the door. As his hand touched the handle, he heard the click of a magazine being readied behind him. He paused, turned, and saw that Audrey now had her submachine gun drawn. She was pointing in his direction.

"Hero, what the hell are you doing?" Wernher asked cautiously

"Covering the door. What's it look like?"

"Like you're going to shoot me."

"It's not you I'm aiming for."

Wernher looked back towards the door then again at Audrey, who still hadn't taken her eyes off the gun's sights. "It's just a closet, Hero."

"Where I come from, there are monsters in the closets. And in the bathrooms, the halls, the kitchens… Heck Wernher, there are monsters pretty much everywhere in the Capital Wasteland," she answered tersely. "Now open the door, slowly please."

Wernher rolled his eyes, but complied. Her carefully turned the handle – then yanked the door open, screamed, and dove onto the tracks. Above him, gunfire roared as Audrey let loose with the Ultra SMG. After she had emptied a full clip, she paused and squinted into the gloomy interior of the space. She saw nothing.

"Are you okay, Wernher?" she called out.

Wernher didn't say a word. Instead, he got up and entered the closet without the slightest trace of fear. A moment later, he came back out holding a smoking blue and white box.

"Congratulations, Hero," he said, tossing it at her feet. "You just blew the hell out of a box of Sugar Bombs; that is to say, you just killed breakfast." He started to applaud. "You really earned your fuckin' Brownie points today, let me tell you."

Audrey's upper lip curled as she fought back the desire to fill him full of holes. After a moment she said, "Wernher. You, are an ass."

"You couldn't get more profound if you tried, Hero."

"Would you shut up?" snapped Audrey. "Do you have _any_ idea what I do for a living? This," she gestured between her gun and the closet, "is run-of-the-freakin'-mill!"

"No I don't have any idea, but I imagine it involves a lot of dead things in your wake. Which makes you perfect for this mission."

"Great," Audrey deadpanned.

They spent the next few minutes setting up camp for the night, which basically consisted of Wernher and Audrey dragging a fire barrel out of the closet, filling it up with some pre-stocked flammable refuse, and adding a lit match to finish the job. The light of the flames served to illuminate the stub tunnel as the handcar's lights gradually died down again. Once finished, Audrey sat on the edge of the handcar eating from an MRE, a substance that was supposedly mashed potatoes and gravy. Although MREs had a very long shelf-life, she wasn't sure if taste was one of the properties that kept. This was one of the rare occasions she actually found herself longing for freeze-dried Vault food, which she hated with a passion. To take her mind off the potatoes au gootin, she let her eyes wander and studied their small enclosure.

"I take it this is one of your safe houses, Wernher?" she asked.

"Safe house, yes. Mine, no," Wernher answered. "This place is one of four Stations on the Underground Railroad."

"Well, it certainly has an accurate name considering the nature of our trip."

"You would think, wouldn't you?" Wernher shook his head. "No, this place is named the Underground Railroad for a very different reason. This is Ashur's way of perverting the original Civil War term. The first one was a freed slave pipeline; this one, an _en_slaved pipeline. Right now, we're sitting at the first pit stop on a slaver highway. Welcome to paradise." He took a long pull from his hipflask. "That's why this rail line has been so well-maintained," he added, wiping his mouth.

"You mean to tell me that the Pitt, of all places, has an active rail line?"

"Wernher scoffed. "The bosses would be flattered to hear you say that. No, you're giving those scum suckers too much credit. Handcars are the only form of transport in use, but not everyone gets to ride. See that ring there?" he said, pointing to a metal loop protruding from the rear step of the handcar. "The slaves are all shackled together and in turn are shackled to the handcar. The slavers ride shotgun, while two protectron robots man the pump handles. The slaves are kept practically at a constant jog, running behind until the group stops for the night. This is done primarily to break their spirits on the way there and to ensure they're too exhausted to flee from one of the Stations."

"But surely the slaves can't maintain that gait. They must have hardly any of them left by the time they reach the Pitt."

"Tough shit," Wernher replied flippantly. "That's how they do things here. Those who can't take the run collapse and get turned to jelly from being dragged helplessly along the rails. Those who die stay on the chain until they reach their destination. The slaves who do survive the march are deemed most fit to work. And they come with any fight they had left drained out of them." His eyes narrowed and he moved his jaw as if to grind his teeth. "Perfect zombie workers."

Audrey set down her MRE, her appetite suddenly gone, and stared distantly at the tracks. Disturbing thoughts stuck with her like a bad taste in her mouth. What had once been a corridor of shipping in the former land of the free, now served as a thoroughfare for human trafficking. All the rumors and secondhand tales of the Pitt were now beginning to flesh themselves out in her mind's eye. She shuddered.

Wernher noticed this. "You okay over there, Hero?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. It's nothing."

"Starting to see that it's more than just stories?"

This statement caught Audrey off guard. Did she wear her emotions on her sleeve so that even Wernher could see them? Was she really that transparent? She nodded, not entirely comprehending why she was letting her guard down around this man.

"You haven't lived in the world I have, so I can't say I blame you," Wernher said amiably. "For me, this is just another day in the life. This whole thing has got to be pretty far off the beaten path for you, and I need to keep that in mind. Which reminds me," he paused and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry about earlier today." The admission came out in a strained sigh, as if apologies were a foreign export from his mouth.

"Oh?"

"The whole gun-to-the-head thing. I'm sorry about that."

"Thanks, I wasn't expecting that, to be honest," Audrey admitted, feeling a bit taken aback. "Since you seem to think that I'm off my game here, why don't you help a girl out by talking me through some things? That way I can get back on said game."

Wernher gave her a sideways glance. "Okay…what do you want to know?"

Audrey pondered how to best proceed with this. There were many questions whirling about in her mind and she didn't want to drown Wernher in a torrent of inquiry. Probably best to get the lay of the land, she decided. Save the nitty-gritty logistics for later as they still had who knew how many more days on the rails ahead. "Why don't you start by telling me about your people? I'd like to know more about who I'll be helping."

A frown creased Wernher's face. "They built the city on the backs of my people. We're diseased and suffering. What more do you need to know?"

"Well, to go back to the Underground Railroad for a second, do most of the slaves come from outside the Pitt?"

"Actually, no. Most of us are native to the Pitt. Hard to believe, but people still have kids on occasion before the sickness takes them. But lately the demand for slaves has increased, so Ashur's started importing them. And guess who the biggest client is – or _was,_ as you indicate – your home sweet home. Sure, you may have freed some slaves here and killed some slavers there, but did you ever stop and wonder why you see so many slavers as opposed to slaves in use? The Capital Wasteland has been supplying the Pitt."

"You don't acquire slaves just to collect," Audrey observed. "What does Ashur have you guys doing?

She didn't think Wernher's expression could darken further, but darken it did. "They've reactivated the steel mills there," he replied stiffly. "We're ordered to break down metal and reforge it. No one knows why but Ashur. You can damn well bet your life he does."

In Audrey's mind, recycling steel pointed to the building of defenses or armor. Granted, it could be that the Pitt was manufacturing structural components for buildings or bridges, but given that Ashur had been gathering a slave workforce and Wernher seemed to hate him enough to overthrow him, this possibility didn't seem likely. This meant that there was a new wrinkle in the fabric of this mission; free the slaves _and_ put a stop to Ashur's malevolent designs.

"Tell me more about this Ashur."

"Are you always this full of questions?" Wernher asked, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice.

"No, but usually when I'm planning an assault, I know more about the target location than the bad guys do. Either that, or I just make it up as I go along. In this case, you have knowledge about the Pitt that I do not. Therefore, I'd like to ask as many questions as it takes to get on the same page with you."

Wernher stiffened and his eyes narrowed. Clearly she had said something to put him on edge. "Until you have been dragged through the same shit I have, you and I will _never _be on the same page, Hero," he retorted coldly.

"I'm sorry, Wernher," Audrey replied in earnest. "It was not my intention to imply that we were equals in terms of experience. I'm just trying to gather more information, that's all."

Wernher was silent for a long moment. Audrey wanted to speed things up, but didn't dare push the issue. It was like she was pressing buttons on a machine she barely knew and hoping it would work accordingly. You couldn't do the same thing with people. He finally blew out a long breath that almost formed into a whistle. "Fine, you want to know about Ashur do you?"

"Please?"

"Well for starters, he's an evil sadistic son of a bitch. He likes long walks on beaches covered in human skulls and has a gun turret named Fluffy. That fit your bill?" He watched as Audrey's eyes became slits. "Okay, okay. In all seriousness, I don't know where the hell he came from. But I do know that he's strong enough to keep all the other bosses in line. And the bosses you ask? The bosses, well…how to put this nicely?" he scratched his unshaven chin thoughtfully then shrugged. "They're a ragtag group of vicious little fucks. But, they're vicious little fucks with guns and power. So far, Ashur's been able to keep them from butchering each other, and in return they keep forcing us to work. That tell you what you need to know about Ashur?"

"I think I get the picture, yes," Audrey smiled.

"Great, now I get to have at least one question out the twenty. You mentioned when we first met that you'd heard bad things about the Pitt before. Not that I'd refute any of them, I'm just curious as to the what and the who from."

"I also recall telling you that we were just going to leave the bad things at just that; bad things."

"Uh uh," Wernher wagged a finger at her. "You get to pry, I get to pry. Spill."

Audrey let out a pensive sigh. "Have you heard of the Scourge?" She was surprised when he nodded.

"Hero, you're talking to a resident of the Great State of Pitt. I witnessed it."

"Oh." She swallowed, glad the low light hid the reddening of her face. She saw Wernher motioning her to go on. "I have a friend in the Brotherhood of Steel who was there as well. He gave me his version of events and, yeah that's pretty much it. Since you saw the whole thing, I won't bore you with details."

"I take it he was one of the soldiers that took part in it?"

"No, he was just a kid, native to the Pitt. The Brotherhood took him and a few other surviving children with them when they left."

"They certainly didn't see fit to take me," Wernher muttered. "Then again, I was hiding under a pile of bodies so they probably didn't see me at all." He said this with a detachment that Audrey found unsettling. It must have shown on her face as Wernher then added, "Hey, there's no shame in hiding under a mound of dead if it means survival. I was glad the soldiers were doing what they were. Though I couldn't exactly stand up and cheer them on as they weren't being very discriminant with their laser fire."

Audrey cringed. "I really wish you hadn't made me bring this up."

"Hey, I'm not bothered by it. The way I see it, the Brotherhood were the first ones to actually try to clean up the Pitt. Though what they did wound up being more of a calm-down than a cleanup. At least they got the worst ones, my mom included."

Again, Audrey shifted uncomfortably. With every word Wernher spoke, Paladin Kodiak's rendition seemed less and less traumatic by comparison. "I, I'm so sorry, Wernher."

"Don't be," he said dismissively. "The week before the Scourge, my mom, in a diseased rage, ripped my little sister's face off with her bare hands. Trust me, when the Brotherhood turned her chest into a burning crater, it was the best thing to happen to her – and me – in years. And I only mention the two of us because mom had eaten everyone else in the family."

The wave of nausea came over her like a rolling fog on the D.C. tidal basin. Feeling the undeniable churning sensation rising from the pit of her stomach, Audrey stood up and looked about franticly.

"Bucket, closet, left hand side," said Wernher, pointing over his shoulder.

Audrey didn't have time to thank him as she was soon kneeling over said bucket retching her dearly departed supper into it. The thought of Wernher's mother devouring her own family disgusted her to no end. Keeping it on her mind only made her reacquaint herself with lunch.

"You want to hear about the sickness?" Wernher asked nonchalantly.

"Not right now, thank you," Audrey croaked in reply.

"Oh come on, you were so intent before, why _ever_ would you want to stop now?"

"Because I'm pretty sure I just saw one of my kidneys come up."

"That's why you have a spare," Wernher egged her on. "Don't you want to know about TDC?"

"TDC?" The acronym slipped off her tongue before she could stop herself. _Dammit! Shut UP, Audrey!_

"See? I knew you couldn't stay away," Wernher laughed lightly.

Audrey was becoming aware that she was finding Wernher a difficult man to read. One minute, his hackles were up at the very mention of Ashur, the next he was taking pleasure in her expulsions. Even though both of them had been baptized in fire of some form, they were clearly not cut from the same cloth.

"TDC," Wernher continued, "or Troglodyte Degeneration Contagion, as Ashur's bitch wife calls it – though in the Pitt, most of us just call it 'That Shit' - is hard to describe. It's nasty. And everyone who gets it feels its effects a little differently. But the longer you're there, the more it gets you. Some just get sick and die, their bodies a mass of blisters and sores. Others go crazy, completely psycho. They live out in the unsettled parts of the city. We call 'em 'Wildmen'. And the worst – "

"Wait, there's a worst to this?" Audrey said disbelievingly. "How much worse can you get besides going crazy or dying?"

Wernher clicked his tongue, clearly not liking having his soliloquy interrupted. "The worst, Hero, turn into animals. I don't know what the Jolly Green Giant is, but he's got it good compared to these poor bastards. They completely forget who they are. Their entire existence devolves down to four things," he held up his fingers as he ticked off each one. "Eat. Sleep. Fuck. Kill. But this cure, maybe it can stop all that."

Audrey looked up and for the first time, she beheld a somber expression on Wernher's face. She realized then that he had bet the farm on her and this cure. He was a man with nothing to lose. Which made him a very dangerous entity if set loose upon a certain person or group. In a way, it made her feel pity for him. Pity that he had been forced to resort to these measures to try and live out his life in peace. But that goal would never be his unless he took it by force. Unless she helped him take it by force.

"We'll get it done, Wernher," she said reassuringly. "The bosses haven't tangled with anyone like me and I'm very good at what I do. You picked a killing machine."

"That's good," he muttered. "Because you're probably going to have to kill a whole lot of people before this is over."

On the outside, Audrey grinned, but it belied the growing uncertainty she felt within.

* * *

><p>The next leg of the journey proved to be less arduous than the first. Audrey was gradually becoming used to operating the handcar and her arms hurt less as a result. At Wernher's prompting she wrapped her hands in strips of cloth in order to prevent blisters from forming on her palms. So far, it had worked. The days seemed to drag as they rolled through the darkness. With little more to do than make the handle go up and down, Audrey had peppered Wernher with more questions to pass the time. She was relieved that he seemed to be warming up to her, otherwise the trip would have been less bearable than it was already. At one point he entertained her curiosity about how he managed to escape down the rail line alone.<p>

He told her he hadn't and instead had escaped the Pitt with a small group of slaves. Together, they had ridden the handcar to the first two Stations and killed the guards posted. Wernher had split his squad up at the two biggest Stations, Three and Four, and ordered them to hold their positions until he returned. He had continued on alone down the line to Two and One, dispatched the waiting slaver at each, and had reached the Capital Wasteland shortly thereafter. Wernher had known that he and his squad were being followed, but had left strict instructions that his men were to hide and not engage the pursuing slavers unless directly threatened. Let them search the Stations and move on. Knowing his hunters would be coming via a second handcar, he'd hidden his in a collapsed section of tunnel after leaving Station One and had run the rest of the way. The vehicle would be an obvious sign of his whereabouts and he hadn't wanted to give the Ashur's attack dogs any more clues than necessary. It turned out he had barely avoided being spotted by the slavers Audrey and Fawkes had killed at the holding camp. They were bringing Prosper and the other slaves into camp just as he scrambled over the rocks and out of sight. The rest, Audrey knew.

On nights they didn't hit a Station, they took turns bedding down between the rails while the other stood watch. After enduring yet another of these uncomfortable nights in succession, Audrey was very grateful when they began their approach to Station Three on the fifth day. As they rolled in, the handcar's lights revealed this Station to be far larger than either one of its predecessors.

Station Three did better to match its name than One and Two had, as it was constructed in the ruins of an actual pre-war Metro station. The high vaulted concrete ceilings, escalators, and piles of compacted rubble scattered about actually made Audrey feel at home. She had spent many hours crawling through the ruins of D.C.'s own Metro system. Based around the lower boarding platform of the station, the former slaver base was ringed by walls that consisted of a hodgepodge of sheet metal and plywood. From what she could see, the escalators had been blocked off and razor wire strung up along the railing of the upper platform; all measures to keep people confined she assumed. Scaffolding had been erected with ramps to act as a bridge across the tracks, one that wouldn't interfere with the progress of handcars. On one side of the tracks, a series of bunk beds provided sleeping accommodations and a cluster of card tables was set up next to a refrigerator. On the other, a metal cage similar to one Prosper had been housed in sat like an ominous eight hundred pound gorilla, a reminder of why they were doing what they were. There were fire barrels scattered about that Audrey thought were strangely unlit. If Wernher's men were waiting here like he said, then surely there would be flames or at least smoke wafting up from a resent extinguishing. The barrels appeared cold and dark, as if they had not been in use for some time.

They pulled to a stop and Wernher dismounted onto the platform. He let out a sharp series of whistles which echoed in the cavernous space. He waited, his ears trained and his good eye glancing about as if expecting a response.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

"I thought you said you had friends here," Audrey whispered.

"So did I," he muttered. He reached into his cutoff jacket and removed a flare. He ignited it, bathing the area immediately around him a reddish light, then moved to look about the Station.

Audrey activated her Pip-Boy light and went over to check the bunk beds. There was a duffle bag on one mattress and a footlocker next to another. The sheets on some of the mattresses looked as if they had been used recently, only to have their last occupants leave in a hurry. She unzipped the duffle bag and leafed through its contents. Inside she found an assortment of odds and ends; duct tape, bottles of dirty water, and spare clips of ammo just to name a few. What caught her attention was a folded slip of paper tucked into an inside pouch. She pulled it out and read it.

_June 21, 2278_

_At last, I can finally sleep the sleep of a free man. Wernher's gone on to wherever it is he's going. Says the one he needs is there, whatever that means. Couple of the others doubt his intentions, but fuck 'em I say. Man busted us out of that shithole and helped us get this far, so that's all that really counts for me. _

_We're busy taking control of this Station, already have Four in our hands from what I hear. Either Wernher is going to do the others himself or he's going to bypass Two and One entirely. Who cares? We own this place now and that's what matters._

_Heard some noises in the upper levels. Probably nothing , this place is still settling from the looks of it. I'll keep one of the barrels burning just in case though. Fire should be enough to keep any radroaches at bay. Those little bastards hate the light._

_John Wrigley, a free man_

Audrey replaced the note with the rest of the bag's objects. _Wernher wasn't lying_, she thought. _His men were here, but where could they have gone?_

"Hero," Wernher called from somewhere in the gloom. "You need to come see this."

She looked up and searched for him with her Pip-Boy light. She found him standing over by the bottom of the escalators which she could now see had razor wire running along their handrails too. As she walked over to him, she could see worry lines creasing his face. "What's wrong?"

"This."

Audrey looked to where he was pointing and saw that a massive hole had been rent in the sheet metal barrier blocking one of the escalators. "I assume someone got out?" she asked, unsure of what else to say.

"No, something got in," Wernher replied gravely, indicating the jagged edges of the hole. They were indeed facing in. Audrey could see dried blood on some of them.

"What are you talking about?"

"These barricades weren't designed to keep things in, but to keep things out. And whatever the slavers were afraid of broke through. This wasn't like this when I left."

"What does this mean?"

"It means we need to leave right now. Get on the handcar."

"But what about your men?" Audrey protested. "I saw a note. They were here! You just can't leave them to die!"

He grabbed her by the arm and started to pull her towards the handcar. "Don't fucking argue with me, Hero!" he snarled. "If my boys didn't respond, then they're dead. And they'd leave too if our roles were rever –"

"Wernher…?" The voice that sounded from the darkness was human and weak. It came from the upper platform. "Wernher," it repeated hoarsely. "Is that you?"

Wernher let go of Audrey's arm and stood momentarily frozen. "Son of a bitch!" he exhaled in disbelief. He drew his weapon and crawled through the hole in the escalator barricade.

As he crawled up the idle steps, Audrey fished in her pack for her submachine gun. She pulled the weapon out, loaded it, then proceeded up after Wernher. He was knelt down behind a broken concrete bench, training his gun towards the ramp that led to the Metro station's upper concourse.

"Who's there?" he called out. "Identify yourself."

A hacking cough sounded from the direction of the ramp. "John," the voice wheezed. "Wernher, it is you!" There were shuffling footsteps to accompany the voice now.

Wernher looked over at Audrey. "Shine your light over there," he whispered. She did as he asked but the beam from her Pip-Boy wouldn't penetrate far enough through the blackness. Cursing, Wernher tossed his flare towards the ramp. It clattered and sparked when it hit the floor but still remained lit.

In the flare's glow stood a hunched figure, his clothing torn and body smeared with blood and filth. A portion of his face was pure ruin and one arm hung limply at his side. He stopped when the light hit him.

"John! Jesus Christ," Wernher gasped upon seeing the man. He got up and ran towards him. Audrey deduced that this must be the same person who wrote the diary entry she had read. She started to follow and it was then that she realized the shambling footsteps did not belong to John Wrigley.

"Wernher, stop!"

Before the words could fully escape her mouth, a pair of sinewy arms wrapped themselves around John Wrigley from behind and yanked him back into the void. The man didn't even have time to scream.

"No!" cried Wernher, firing shots at their unseen foe. He started to take off after Wrigley, when a pack of feral ghouls charged down the ramp. "Shit!" he yelled as he backpedalled towards Audrey. His foot caught a small chunk of concrete and he went sprawling on the floor. The outline of a feral was nearly upon him when gunfire laced its body. In the flashes from Audrey's SMG, he could see its rotted skeletal face with an eyeball dangling from the moist cable of an optic nerve. The abomination gurgled and fell to the ground, still leaving nearly a dozen running corpses in its wake, every one emitting inhuman shrieks.

Audrey did what she could to hose them down and managed to thin their numbers quite a bit before she had to reload. With the exception of her Pip-Boy light and the now-fizzling flare, the platform plunged back into semidarkness without the muzzle flashes to contribute. As she fumbled for her next magazine, she could hear the sounds of squishy feet getting closer and closer. She had just slammed the clip home when the room lit up again with two shots from Wernher's magnum. She ducked as the first shot sent a feral ghoul cartwheeling by her and into the razor wire. The second shot downed another in the back. Their combined firepower finished off the pack. They breathed heavily in the sudden quiet, trying to calm their nerves.

Wernher was not one to stay idle long. "Come on!" he yelled, starting up the ramp. "We have to find John!"

"Are you crazy?" Audrey balked. "What about what you said before?"

"Fuck what I said before!" he shouted and disappeared into the black.

Audrey swore as she reloaded. It wasn't that she was afraid to go toe to toe with a mob of shambling feral ghouls, she was just afraid to face one in particular; the one that had snatched John. The speed and strength with which it had carried him off suggested a more powerful ghoul was still at large. She thought she knew what kind it might be, and it gave her cold feeling of dread. This ghoul was what had sparked her change of heart. Deep down, she knew John was already dead. But Wernher didn't and he didn't know what he was chasing down. And that was going to get him killed. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. This was just like another Metro run, she told herself. _Except now you have no stealth armor and you have to keep Wernher alive. Joy and praise._

She darted into the upper concourse, pausing every few seconds to make sure she wasn't going to get jumped. Try as she might, stealth wouldn't be an option as her combat boots thudded hard as she moved. She reached the top of the concourse and found the exit to the surface was blocked by a mountain of rubble. Clearly, Wernher had not gone this way. As with everything else, he moved through the station like a man possessed and Audrey had no way of knowing which way he went. She would have to comb through the ruins bit by bit and hope she found him before it was too late.

"Wernher?" she whispered sharply. A numbing silence answered her. Her Pip-dar showed nothing. She swallowed her anxiety and doubled back.

When she stopped in front of a pair of Nuka Cola vending machines, she was presented with two options of where to go: the restroom wing to her left, or the entrance to the maintenance tunnels to her right. Against her better judgment she chose right. She took a step and nearly lost her footing. The floor in front of and on into the maintenance tunnels was slick with blood. Fresh blood. This had to be the way. She prayed it wasn't Wernher's. Gripping her submachine gun tighter, she proceeded cautiously into the maintenance corridor.

The _pop-fizz_ of a soda bottle being opened stopped her cold. Slowly, she turned around. Her light caught a feral ghoul standing in front of the restrooms, its skin the dull color of greenish rot. In its bony hand, an open soda bottle. The creature squinted as she shined the beam into its eyes. Then it did something Audrey had never seen a feral ghoul do before. It brought the bottle to its decaying maw and began to drink. Cola leaked from small holes in its throat. Audrey couldn't shoot the thing. She was too stunned to do anything for that matter. What the feral had just done was a very human action, something that its brethren never exhibited any signs of. _Could this be the feral ghoul equivalent of Fawkes?_

She stared at it.

It stared at her.

Then let out a primal scream. The sound was piercing to Audrey's ears and she struggled to cover them while readying her weapon. The feral ghoul spread its arms wide and a green corona began to emanate from its body. It took a breath then screamed louder and this time, its entire body ignited in a toxic green flash. The glass bottle shattered as the remaining soda flash boiled inside. Audrey blinked from the sudden change in light and when her vision adjusted, she realized what was in front of her. She was standing face to face with a Glowing One, a living conduit of radiation.

Not having any more qualms, she backed into the maintenance corridor and unleashed two long bursts into the creature. The Glowing One snarled as it took the shots. It bent, but didn't break. Flexing its visible muscles, it generated another radiation flare which immediately healed its bullet wounds. Then it ran after her.

For what was essentially a zombie, the creature was shockingly fast. Audrey had to run flat out just to stay ahead of it. She ducked and dodged her way through the tunnels, turning around every now and then to shoot at it. It had no effect. Her shots only intensified the feral's desire to run her down. One feral ghoul had the misfortune to stick its head of an open door to check out the commotion. Audrey replaced its teeth with bullets.

Her legs were burning and her chest was heaving; she had to find a place to take cover for a few minutes, if that. Where the hallway jogged to the left, she saw what she wanted in an empty storage room and slid across its threshold. Whirling around, she pressed the button to lower the metal door. Nothing happened. She pressed it again, several times in rapid succession. Again, nothing. Panic began to set in. The Glowing One was bearing down upon her, so close in fact, she could feel its radioactive aura tingling her skin. Her Pip-Boy's Geiger counter began to click.

"Goddamn you, shut!" she yelled, kicking the useless switch as hard as she could. The Glowing One reached the doorframe right as Audrey landed a powerful blow into the console. The entire unit sheared away from the wall and the electronics short-circuited, sending the door crashing shut on top of the Glowing One. When door and ghoul reached the floor, the latter's head split open like a cantaloupe.

Audrey collapsed back against the wall, fighting off hyperventilation. She looked up at the ceiling. "Thank you, Lord," she panted. "Sorry…about the whole…name in vain thing…but," she paused, drawing in a deep breath through her nose. "Thank you…very much."

After she had caught her breath, a quick inspection with her light revealed the storage room to be devoid of any secondary exits or usable ventilation shafts. That left the only way out to be the now thoroughly broken door resting in the smashed carcass of the glowing ghoul. The creature's body barely kept the heavy door propped off the ground. She found herself wishing for Fawkes' presence. If he were here, he'd be able to raise the door with only his pinkie finger. She'd have to improvise.

She got up then went over and knelt down to examine the hole in the wall where the door's switch box formerly resided. The rubber insulation on the wires was dry and cracked, but she was able to find enough purchase to avoid being electrocuted. Not really expecting anything to come of her efforts, Audrey was surprised when the door shot up into its housing as she touched two wires together. Startled, she let go of the wires and the door crashed down again onto the Glowing One, splattering radiant gore everywhere. Cringing, she delicately flicked a smashed eyeball off her shoulder and resumed her work, trying to remember which pairing of wires had been the magic combination. Eventually she found it, and the door went back up as violently and as loudly as before. _If the remaining ghouls didn't know we're here, they do now. Then again,_ she mused, _emptying clip after clip into a Glowing One might have done the trick already._

She braced herself then let go of the wires and tucked and rolled under the door as it slammed down again. Her combat helmet slipped off her head as she moved and she caught a fleeting glimpse of it rocking back and forth on the floor of the storage room before the door closed. At least she made it out with her SMG.

Audrey toggled on her Pip-Boy's local mapping program and tried to get her bearings. This feature was designed to assemble a digital overhead layout of a location based on where its user moved. So far, she appeared to have covered most of the Metro station's subterranean sprawl, still with no sign of Wernher. Already having been one way, she picked the only direction she had left to go and continued on.

It was not until she neared the opening of an office lit by a dim red light that she heard the first noises not of feral ghoul origin. She slowed her pace and inched her way forward along the wall, straining to make sense of these new sounds. They seemed muffled and tense, like someone stifling a breath.

Before her brain could put two and two together, a pair of calloused hands reached from the office and dragged her inside. Her faceless assailant tried to wrestle her onto a desk, but Audrey was not one to go down so easily. She jerked back and head-butted her opponent, who by the sound of his grunt of pain, was clearly male. He responded by throwing her across another desk, sending a computer terminal crashing to the floor. A red emergency light cast a pool of glow on the floor next to the desk, with Audrey and the man on opposite sides. She recovered quickly and, drawing her weapon, circled the ring of light. The man did the same. A hammer cocked. A slide pulled back. They lunged. The momentum combined with intent brought Audrey and the man together in the pool of light, both with weapons trained at the other's center of mass. They stood frozen. Audrey blinked. So did Wernher.

"You!" she gasped.

"You!" he gasped in return.

With her vision adjusting to the red hue, Wernher looked to Audrey as he had been through a tough fight. His eye patch was askew and his exposed skin sported numerous cuts and bruises. "I was beginning to think you were dead."

"Not hardly," he grumbled. "Heard your little gunfight a while back. Wanted to help, but I was otherwise occ – " His voice faltered and his remaining eye grew wide. He appeared to look not at her, but beyond her.

Without warning, Wernher jerked his gun to the right and fired. The boom rocked Audrey's left eardrum and she felt the bullet pass millimeters from her skin and through her hair. As she turned and fell away from the shot, she beheld a skeletal figure clutching a hand to its head just inside the office doorway. Its skin appeared to have a slight shimmer to it, like heat waves rolling across the Wasteland in summer. Her dazed state made everything seem to slow down and recede from focus. But trigger instinct took over for where her brain was currently lacking. She mechanically raised her SMG and fired at what she knew to be a feral ghoul reaver, the very reason she had abandoned all hope of a rescue attempt.

Despite receiving what would have been a mortal wound to any normal being, the reaver roared in defiant pain and charged at them. Wernher emptied his gun into the beast's chest, but that didn't even stall it for a second. The reaver leapt onto a desk then sprang at Wernher. It would have backhanded him if Audrey hadn't knocked him out of the way. Instead, it struck her with such force that she flew sideways through the air and crashed through a deteriorated cubicle.

Wernher watched, stunned, as this unfolded. As Audrey's form hit the ground, his stomach dropped. Enraged, he hefted the end of the desk nearest to the feral ghoul and toppled it over onto the abomination. The heavy steel desk landed with a sickening crunch and he deduced the ghoul's ribs had been cracked. But it still wouldn't go down. With unnatural strength, it began to lift the desk off itself. Not knowing what else to do, Wernher jumped on the desk's upside down tabletop and began striking the reaver in the face with the grip of his revolver.

"Die you motherfucker!" he screamed, slamming the gun into the reaver again and again. After a moment, the feral lay still. He wiped the green gore from his face and rushed over to Audrey. She was just starting to sit up and looked woozy.

"Hero, you alright?"

Audrey looked up foggily. "Please tell me we got it," she groaned.

"You and I shot the hell out of it, and then I beat the hell out of it," Wernher replied confidently. "So yeah, we got it." To his surprise, Audrey snorted and laughed.

"No, you didn't even faze him."

As if on cue, the reaver let out a maniacal shriek and threw off the desk with superhuman power. It stood up and spun around in a fit of blind rage, its eyes ruined by Wernher's mutilation. Audrey quietly reached over and slipped a frag grenade from Wernher's belt.

"What are you _doing_?" Wernher hissed, clenching his teeth.

"Finishing this."

Abruptly, Audrey got up and ran towards the feral ghoul. It heard her approach and flexed its arms, ready to tear her apart. What it hadn't counted on was Audrey pulling the pin on the grenade and shoving the explosive into its mouth. She crammed it in so far, that the grenade became lodged in the reaver's windpipe. Wernher, having realized what she had just done, didn't need any further encouragement and vaulted over a clutter of office furniture and toppled cubicles. Together, they bolted from the office, the sounds of the reaver's choking filling the air behind them.

"Hero, you are one crazy bi– "

The office detonated and the blast sent Audrey and Wernher sprawling along the hallway floor. At their backs, fire burned from ancient paper igniting and going up in a blaze. Audrey stood up with a moan and leaned forward wearily with her hands on her knees.

"_Now_, we got him," she sighed triumphantly. She helped Wernher to his feet. "So, where to?"

"The handcar," he mumbled, his eye downcast.

"John?"

Wernher shook his head.

"The others?"

"Worse."

Audrey reached out and squeezed his arm. "I'm so sorry, Wernher."

"For what? You were right, there was nothing we could have done."

"No I wasn't. You were right to try and save your men anyway. I changed my tune when I saw the reaver take John. It's been my experience that no one has gone against a reaver and lived – except for me and that's only because I have the dumbest luck ever." She flashed him a smile. "What you did was noble and courageous. You did everything you could."

Wernher shrugged her off. "Tell it to someone who gives a shit." He stalked off down the hall and Audrey followed solemnly behind.


	7. Chapter 7

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 7.**

_She was standing in a field, its waves of grain as amber as the song described. All around her, the golden wheat seemed to stretch on forever as if on an eternal plane. The sky was blue with a few wispy clouds drifting lazily overhead, and the sun was warm and comforting. Audrey started to wonder how she had come to be here in this vastness of grain, but she dismissed this as a trifling thought. Who was she to question a place of such beauty? She moved further into the field, letting her fingertips stray across the tops of the stalks as she passed. Their thin bristles tickled her skin and she giggled gaily. She had neither direction nor purpose for being here, and yet she couldn't have felt happier. The field was just like those her father had read to her about in stories as a child. A place of such wonder and bliss seemed like a utopia compared to the cold metal confines of Vault 101. _

_ She picked up her pace, accelerating into a gleeful bound. A light breeze began to grace the air, and as she ran, it felt like gentle fingers stroking through her hair. It was a sensation she imagined she would have received from her mother, had she not passed during childbirth. The woman Audrey had never known seemed closer than ever now. Her exhilaration heightened._

_ Abruptly, the landscape changed. The wheat stopped moving in the breeze and quickly receded into the soil. For a split second, she was standing in the middle of an endless expanse of red earth with the blue sky contrasting mightily above. The next instant, giant plants shot up from the ground and turned her world into a jungle. But this jungle was not one of vines and hanging moss, she saw. The plants that made up this spontaneous greenhouse were all flowers but with their leaves and petals folded in on themselves. Tentatively, she reached out and touched the flower closest to her. It flinched as though startled by her presence. Then it shuddered and its vegetal cocoon suddenly parted, revealing a shaft of light which emanated from the center of the flower. Having stepped back to avoid a petal flopping on her, Audrey now could see the outline of a human figure emerging from the light. She moved closer, and then fell to the ground in shock. The figure was one she knew very well._

_ "Daddy?" she whispered, the word barely forming in her mouth. _

_She couldn't believe it. It was truly him. Her father! The same man who had helped to bring her into the world and had then raised her on his own until she was nineteen. The same man who had loved her more than life itself. The same man who had died while she watched helplessly from the outside of the Project Purity control room. Now here he stood before her, looking as alive and beaming with as much pride as the day she had passed the G.O.A.T. He knelt down beside her and took her hand in his. _

"_Hello, sweetheart," he said, his voice as warm and as loving as she remembered it. Before she knew what she was doing, Audrey had enveloped him in a tight embrace and was sobbing with a mixture of grief and happiness into his chest, her tears leaving moist tracks down the front of his lab coat. After a moment, he lifted her face and dried her cheeks with thumb. _

"_Shhh," he whispered. "You're a grown woman now. Remember, grown women don't cry," he jokingly admonished. _

_At this remark, Audrey's sobs morphed into a halting laugh. "Yeah, right," she managed between breaths. "You're the one who told me that it takes a real person to cry."_

_Her father laughed in return. "Ha! Of course I did, because it's true. But now is not the time for tears, honey."_

"_Dad, I – I can't believe you're here! I watched you d–," she stopped herself short. "I lost you at Project Purity," she continued, reaching out to touch his face. His scruffy beard seemed impossibly real. "How can this be?" _

_James Epson smiled broadly. "I'm as real as you make me, Audrey. I've been right beside you all along, in life, and beyond. Though the good times and bad, I've watched you grow from a bright little girl into a strong and confident woman. A woman who saved the Capital Wasteland no less."_

_Audrey felt her ears redden. "Come on, Dad. It's thanks to you that D.C. now has clean water. I just flipped a switch."_

"_And I suppose that's why you bear the title of 'The Lone Switch-Flipper'?" _

"_Funny."_

"_And how is it that you're The Lone Wanderer, yet you are constantly shadowed by a faithful dog and of all things, a super mutant? That doesn't seem very lone to me."_

_Audrey shrugged innocently as she got to her feet. "What can you do? They didn't shoot me on site so I figured, what the hey, let's hang out."_

_Her father chuckled. "Come, we can 'hang out' as you walk with me."_

_He led her through the flowers along a path which seemed to form where he stepped, the foliage parting as he moved. _

"_Where are we going, Dad?"_

"_To the reason why I brought you here, honey."_

"_Aw, I'm hurt," Audrey teased. "You're telling me you didn't do this just to see me?"_

_Her father smiled and shook his head. "I can claim to have instilled that wit of yours myself, but I'd be lying if I told you it didn't come from your mother. Which brings me to why you're here; I'm just your guide for today. I'm doing this on behalf of someone else."_

"_Who?"_

"_We're here. Why don't you ask her yourself?" _

_They were standing before a flower far larger than the others that made up the oversized garden. It was a brilliant blue and seemed to sit apart from the other flowers. Clearly it was of some importance._

"_Her? Her who?"_

"_Your mother, darling."_

_The word sent a tingle through Audrey's body. Her legs turned to jelly and she stumbled forward in a daze to the large flower. She put her hand up to it just as she had done with her father's and the plant's petals spread open. There was a light inside and again, a figure stood within. She couldn't wait this time and rushed onto the carpet of petals, suddenly finding a renewed energy. The excitement at meeting a mother whom she had never seen was practically pulsing through her._

_She reached the pillar of light and stopped short. There was something wrong in the way her mother seemed to be moving. It was like she was…shambling? _

_Before she could react, the feral ghoul reaver sprang upon her and sank its teeth into her neck._

* * *

><p>Audrey screamed and sat bolt upright, a cold sweat clinging to her skin. Her eyes flicked wildly about as she tried to reorient herself. Enveloping darkness and the sound of dripping water echoing from a distant hollow chamber were the only clues she had. Where was her father? Her mother? The reaver?<p>

_The reaver!_

Her left hand flew to her neck, searching desperately for the ragged wound in her flesh she knew would be there. But it wasn't. Her fingers found nothing but cool, clammy skin and the heightened pulse that raced beneath. It had all been a dream. She let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. She was back in the dark train tunnels with Wernher, on her way to the last place on earth she wanted to go. A part of her felt heartache that the vision of her father had not been real. It had been so wonderful to see him again, if only in the dark recesses of her mind. The other part felt relief that she had been released from the nightmare back into the clutches of reality. At least reality was a nightmare she knew how to handle.

Beside her, Wernher cleared his throat.

"Hero, you awake?"

"Yeah. Sorry my screaming woke you," she yawned. "Bad dream."

"I got that. Now can you get your gun out of my face?"

When Wernher said this, Audrey realized for the first time that her right arm hadn't moved since she'd woken up. She pulled it towards her, turned on her Pip-Boy light, and found she was clutching her silenced 10mm pistol. Her grip was so tight her knuckles were pale. She turned to Wernher and saw he had a faint red impression in the center of his forehead, no doubt from when she had been reflexively cramming the barrel of the suppressor into his skin.

"Oh, um…sorry Wernher, I…" she stalled, unsure of what to say to placate someone she had been holding unconsciously at gunpoint.

"You always sleep with a gun?"

"What? You're telling me you don't?"

Wernher looked at her. "Of course I do. Except I keep mine in my holster, _not_ in my hand."

"I walk around with a flashing neon target on my head every day, Wernher. Some girls sleep with teddy bears; I sleep with a semiautomatic."

"I see. Still, I'm never waking you up again, so I hope that computer thing on your wrist has an alarm."

"It does. It's called a Geiger counter."

* * *

><p>They packed up their encampment on the tracks and continued down the line, heading northwest. Conversation was all but nonexistent, the events of the previous day still weighing heavily on their minds. They had not stayed the night at Station Three. Despite being utterly exhausted from their battle with the feral ghoul colony, Audrey and Wernher had wanted to put as much distance between them and the complex as they possibly could. They had rolled on through the night until their bodies were near breaking, finally stopping to rest at a nondescript spot on the rail line. On the evening of the seventh day of their journey, they arrived at Station Four.<p>

Like Station Three, this too was made from the remains of a pre-war Metro Station. It had roughly the same layout as Three, only as they passed under the overhead platform, Audrey could now see that the escalators weren't barricaded. She hoped that was a good sign.

Wernher applied the brake and let out the same series of whistles he had before. Audrey held her breath, anticipating another deathly silence. Her fears were not warranted however, as the sounds of cocking guns filled her ears instead. In the grand scheme of things, this could be considered an improvement. A series of floodlights suddenly were cast onto the handcar and its occupants.

"Alright, n-nobody move. W-Who goes there?" a cautious stuttering voice said from above. The people surrounding them seemingly materialized on the upper platform and the escalators.

Wernher sighed. "The whistles didn't tell you enough?"

"Anyone can m-make whistles," the man retorted.

"You idiot, it's Wernher. He gave the freakin' signal," a woman to the left of them hissed.

"S-So? He could be held under d-d-duress!"

"Yeah?" the woman shot back. "You really think Wernher can get held up by some hooker?" Audrey flinched at this snap assessment. "He whistled. He's back. Now step off."

"Nice to see that someone remembers the protocol," Wernher growled. "Now can I move already? My arms are getting stiff here." In response, floodlights dimmed and weapons lowered.

He and Audrey grabbed their gear and headed up the escalators to the upper mezzanine where the people whom Audrey took to be his associates were gathered around a lit fire barrel. Four in all, they took turns exchanging handshakes or hugs with Wernher while Audrey stood back and took it all in. This was a side of him she had never seen before. In his interactions with the freed slaves, she saw the true leader in him emerge from beneath the gruff and weathered exterior. His men respected and trusted him, feelings she was slowly learning to form. He looked over at her after a minute and motioned for her to join them.

"Hero, I'd like you to meet my guys."

From left to right, they were introduced. Bronson, tall, dark skinned, muscular, and soft-spoken, reminded her of a less green version of Fawkes. Nix, a scrawny, disheveled man with a speech impediment, was the one who had stopped them earlier. He looked to Audrey like a jet addict trying to quit cold turkey. Next was Joker, who did not earn his nickname for his humor, but rather from the duel scars that curved up from either corner of his mangled smile. He told her they were a gift from a sadistic slaver named Card Shark who thought it would be fun to try and anatomically alter his work crew to represent certain playing cards. He also told her never to ask about "the poor bastard named Queen". Finally, there was Kiarné. The only other woman in the bunch, she sported a longish mohawk haircut dyed a gray-blue and swept to one side. She would have been very pretty had she not had the look of one who had suffered more abuses than there were names for. She was also staring at Audrey with enough contempt to make a radscorpion molt prematurely from embarrassment.

"Thought you were supposed to bring back an army, Wernher, not some railside tramp." She spat, her saliva projectile landing next to Audrey's boot, an action that clearly wasn't coincidental. Audrey chose to say nothing, hoping ignoring her would help.

"Watch your mouth Ki," Wernher warned. "Audrey here's the one who's gonna' save your ass."

Audrey looked up in surprise. That was the first time Wernher had called her by her real name. Maybe he was finally starting to respect her feelings.

"But she prefers to go by Hero."

_And there went that thought._

"I don't give a shit what she's called. You're the one who got our asses out of the Pitt, Wernher. You expect me to believe she's our only hope?"

"You will if you know what's good for you," Wernher said threateningly.

Kiarné wasn't through though. "Bullshit," she hissed. She circled around behind Audrey and bapped the back of her head. "I'll bet this pretty little thing hasn't even fired a gun let alone held one before." She continued to circle Audrey, mocking her as she did.

"I'm telling you, back off Kiarné, or you're going to be in world of hurt," said Wernher.

Kiarné shoved Audrey again then turned to face Wernher. "Oh yeah, from who? You? Why, you two sack buddies now?"

Audrey reached out and spun the other woman back around to face her. "No. From me." Having endured all the verbal abuse she was going to take, she grabbed Kiarné's arm and twisted it painfully behind her back, taking her to the ground in the process. Once she had rolled her onto her back, Audrey jammed a knee into Kiarné's gut, then drew her silenced pistol, cocked it, and placed the barrel right on the tip of her nose. She held it there, looking into Kiarné's eyes that were now as big as saucers. "Hi, I'm Audrey, the Lone Wanderer. Nice to meet you. Now, are you done?"

Kiarné nodded dumbly. During the short scuffle, Bronson, Nix, and Joker had stepped back in surprise, clearly not expecting such a display of force. Wernher on the other hand stood with his arms folded across his chest, wearing a confident smirk. Bronson started to fumble for his pistol but Wernher stayed his hand.

"Easy, Bronson. If she was gonna' kill Ki, she would have done it by now," he reassured. "Just proving a point, aren't you, Hero?"

"A point's only a proven if the other party concedes defeat," Audrey answered evenly, holstering her weapon. "So, Kiarné, is my point proven?" She slowly twisted her knee further into the woman's abdomen for emphasis.

"Yes," Kiarné grunted. "Now please…get…the fuck…off me."

"With pleasure." Audrey abruptly stood and hauled Kiarné to her feet. "No hard feelings here," she said dusting her off. "I'm just full of surprises most people aren't used to." Kiarné looked over her shoulder as she walked away but didn't say anything in reply. The conversation and confrontation were over.

"You won't get any trouble from us, Miss," added Bronson hurriedly. He held up his open hands.

Audrey smiled disarmingly at him. "Thanks, but I didn't expect any. In truth, I'm glad to see some other faces besides Wernher's. There's only so much asshole a girl can take, you know." That comment seemed to break the ice and lighten the mood even with Wernher scowling merely for effect.

* * *

><p>After a meal of Salisbury steak on rebar kabobs – lightly rusted of course – Nix showed Audrey to her quarters, a space which in years past had been a boiler room. The accommodations were sparse; besides the old steam works, a moldy looking mattress and a rickety table were the only pieces of furniture in the room. A small lantern crudely wired to a portable fission battery provided the only light. Nix apologized that they couldn't offer her more and was surprised when she thanked him graciously. He had no way of knowing that after sleeping with her body crammed between two rails and spending some nights stretched out on cold hard concrete, Audrey viewed the very presence of a mattress as a gift from God.<p>

After Nix had left, Audrey stripped out of her combat armor and changed into more comfortable attire consisting of a sleeveless shirt and raggedy jean shorts. Since the boiler room offered more in the way of space then she had been used to on this trip, it gave her the perfect opportunity to get in some exercise. Her routine began with fifty pushups followed by twenty-five more apiece on each arm. When she had finished, her arm and upper torso muscles had the familiar healthy burn to them, a sensation which she enjoyed. She wasn't through however. Putting the boiler room's layout to good use, she hoisted herself onto one of the overhead pipes and swung her legs over it, allowing the rest of her body to hang freely upside down. Priming her abdominal muscles, she proceeded to do a series of inverted sit-ups. She put her arms behind her head and took turns thrusting with her left and right elbows up to the pipe. To pace herself, every time she would return to the at-rest position, she would recall the face of someone dear to her heart or with whom she had a good relationship. _Up one; down Fawkes. Up two; down Dogmeat. Up three; down Dad. _For Audrey, sit-ups – whether on the ground or in the air – were a calming physical and mental exercise. Even though her body would ache at the end of it all, she would finish feeling completely relaxed. The whole think-and-move routine she had developed for this regimen did not always result in her conjuring up friendly faces though. In her more brooding moments, she could remember the face of every enemy she had ever struck down. Other times, she would recite aloud medical terminology from her father's old D.C. Journal of Medicine. _Up twenty-one; down Bryan Wilks. Up twenty-two; down Agatha Egglebrecht. Up twenty-three, down Kiarné._

_Kiarné!_

The woman's face was staring into hers when she came down from the twenty-third repetition. She hadn't heard her come in. Audrey cried out in alarm, nearly losing her grip on the pipe and Kiarné recoiled when she did this, apparently afraid of another outburst from her. There was none to be had however, as Audrey remained hanging upside down catching her breath.

"Hi," she panted. "There something…I can help you with?" She couldn't help but wonder if Kiarné realized just on how many levels this situation was awkward.

At first, Kiarné remained silent, looking as anxious as a mole rat that had just poked a sleeping deathclaw with a stick. When she finally did speak, her works came out almost as a squeak. "I…I'm sorry."

"Beg your pardon? What did you say?" Audrey posed the question not as a threat but because she simply hadn't been able to hear what Kiarné had said. Nevertheless, the other woman looked ready to bolt from the room.

"I'm…sorry?" Kiarné repeated, cringing on each word.

Trying to ease the tension and because the blood was beginning to rush to her head, Audrey lowered herself to the floor. "Kiarné please, I'm not going to bite you. Why don't you sit down?" she offered genially, propping herself against the cool metal of the boiler. She motioned to a spot next to her. "Here, pull up a wall."

Kiarné blinked a few times and then hesitantly sat down. Then her nerves got the best of her and started to rise. "I-I should go."

Audrey put out a reassuring hand. "No, please stay. What's on your mind?"

"I just wanted…to come and apologize. Those things I said to you before, I was a real bitch back there." Once she had gotten this off her chest, Kiarné's demeanor went from guarded to quite candid. "This plan of Wernher's, I don't know all the details, but it's really important to me. All of us left friends and loved ones back in the Pitt and," her voice faltered momentarily. "We really need the right person for this."

"And you were expecting Wernher to bring back something akin to the former United States Army?" Kiarné nodded. "But instead you get me, the Railroad Wench." Audrey got her to laugh slightly at this and pressed on, knowing she was cracking the woman's shell. "And let me see…you were…" she paused for overly dramatic effect. "Kinda' sorta' maybe really pissed, right?"

"Yeah," Kiarné snickered. "So I'm sorry for the way I acted before. I lost my cool back there and well, you know the rest. After seeing how fast you took me down, I don't think I've ever deserved an ass kicking more in my life."

"No harm, no foul," Audrey assured her. "So, um, what all has Wernher told you about the mission?" she asked, hoping Kiarné might let slip a tidbit of information Wernher had not been so forthcoming with.

"He told us you saved his life, back at Station Three, and about…" her voice trailed off.

"Your friends?" Audrey finished for her.

"Yeah." This came out as more of a mumble than an actual word.

"I'm so sorry, Kiarné. I wish there was more we could have done. It was just…just a…"

"I know. You at least made the effort to go after them. Most people wouldn't even do that."

"Did he share anything else with you?" asked Audrey, not wanting to dwell any longer on Station Three's black halls.

"Is it true then?" Kiarné responded with a question of her own.

"Is what true?"

"You're really going to sneak in as a slave? I couldn't wait to get my ass out of the Pitt and you're going in in the worst way possible. All for us?"

Audrey started to answer then stopped just short. She was debating about whether or not to lie about this part of the plan. She was already leading Wernher to believe she was in lockstep with him on this operation. Why shouldn't she keep up the ruse to the nth degree? Then again, she mused, it might be better to have one person closer to the action in the know. "About that…" She got up and closed the door to ensure them some privacy. Her soon-to-be confidant looked more than a little perplexed. She looked squarely upon her. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure…?"

"Good. Because the whole slave thing, yeah, not gonna' happen."

"What? I don't understand."

"You'll see what I mean." As Kiarné watched her uncertainly, Audrey started unpacking her duffle bag, laying out all her tools of the trade on the mattress. When the frag grenades made their appearance, her new friend's eyes widened.

"My God," she breathed. "You're not sneaking in; you're blowing down the freaking doors!"

"No, I left the door buster at home. He had to house-sit."

"Huh?"

"Oh, forgive me," Audrey chuckled. "Friend of mine from back home. You'd like him actually."

"I would?"

"Absolutely! He's tall, green, and handsome. He can bench-press a house and, oh he's also scarier than me when he gets angry."

Kiarné looked at her for a long moment then, "He's _green_?"

"Of course. Haven't you ever seen a super mutant?"

"No," said Kiarné. "Do I even want to know what one is?"

Audrey's mouth fell open. Who in their right mind hadn't heard of super mutant? Until now, she'd thought she'd been the only sheltered one in the Wasteland. "You're kid – Actually, forget about it. It's a story for another time. To go back to your original comment, I'm not exactly going in their guns blazing. That's not what this situation calls for."

"I beg to differ," came the icy reply.

"I'll bet you do," Audrey eyed her empathetically. "Still, since this is Wernher's gig, if I'm going to bend the rules then I have to bend them accordingly." She held up her suit of Chinese stealth armor.

"So…you're going to fight them…with clothes?"

"Not just any clothes." Audrey activated the armor's cloak and Kiarné nearly had a coronary.

"Holy shit!" she squealed, trying in vain to stifle her voice. Audrey quickly clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Hush," Audrey whispered emphatically. "I can't have Wernher knowing about this stuff, or he'd freak. Just know that while wearing this suit, I can't be seen. Period. And cowards like your former bosses can't fight what they can't see. They can't even run. All they can do, is die." She released her grip and returned the armor to visibility.

"Look," said Kiarné. "I don't know where you got that tech, but I'm telling you right now to keep to your plan. Your method sounds much better than what Wernher had in mind, much safer too."

"Thank you, that's the hope anyway."

"Well it's damn fine one. And don't worry, your secret's safe with me." Audrey felt relief upon hearing this statement. "Though, knowing what I know now, I'd like to ask you a favor."

"Name it."

Kiarné swallowed hard and Audrey could see that whatever she was about to dredge up was indeed painful. "When you get to the Pitt, there'll be a man there, name's Reddup. I was…his. He did terrible things to me. I don't think I…work right…anymore, because of him. C-Could you…?"

Audrey took the broken woman's hands and looked into her eyes, her blood quietly coming to boil. There could be no better reminder of how vital her role in this operation was. Now the victims had a face. "I promise you, Ki, he'll pay and it'll be slow and agonizing. You can be sure that he'll get every last one of your regards."

A tear rolled down Kiarné's cheek. "I was so wrong about you. Thank you so much, Hero."

"Call me Audrey. All my friends do."


	8. Chapter 8

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 8.**

**_Author's Note:_  
><strong>

**_For those of you wondering who has tied me and up and replaced me, I have a few words of encouragement: Always have fear, for I am still here. Translation: why did I post 2 chapters today as opposed to 1? The answer is simple. I had had an epiphany. An epiphany that maybe my chapters were getting a bit too long. So I did some tinkering and as a result of said tinkering, I'm now bringing you chapters 7 and 8 as opposed to the original behemoth that 7 was going to be. The idea here is that this will go a long way to speed up progress on the story and allow me to get more material to you guys faster. Now go. Read. And...review..._**

**_- T. Fett_**

* * *

><p>It was almost midnight and Audrey couldn't sleep. Even though she had downed a Nuka Cola before calling it a night, her insomnia was not brought on by a caffeine high. In truth, her nerves were getting the better of her. The lukewarm soda had been to suppress them, but it was a battle she was finding hard to win. The reason for her growing anxiety: proximity. By this time tomorrow, she would be embedded in the Pitt and all the talk she had spouted to others and to herself would be put to the test. She was fairly certain her alternate agenda could be implemented without incident, but she'd be a fool to think the best laid plans couldn't go awry. Tired of tossing and turning in a fruitless attempt at rest, she slipped into a spare Vault-Tec jumpsuit, retrieved her katana and made her way quietly down the hall.<p>

The mezzanine overlooking the tracks was empty when she arrived, everyone else clearly having less trouble sleeping than her. A small flame was still burning in the fire barrel, providing her with enough light to see. She went through a few stretches then drew her sword from its sheath. Gripping the weapon with both hands, Audrey dropped into a combat stance, her eyes fixated on an imaginary opponent. She slowed her breathing and began. At first her movements were slow, but gradually the pace quickened until she was practically a slender blur moving among the concrete benches. She sliced, parried and slashed, her blade audibly carving the air around her. This deadly dance was designed to cut down lives swiftly and with finality, but its moves could not have been more graceful. The technique was truly a lost art. Advancing and retreating, her motions were precise and the line between offense and defense blurred. Like exercises, practicing with the katana did much to relieve stress for her. After she had felled a few dozen or so shadows, she knew she would be able go right to sleep.

The sound of singular applause jarred her mind from its trance as violently as would a train wreck. She stopped and turned to find Wernher propped up against the archway separating the mezzanine from the upper concourse. How long had he been there?

"That's one heck of a knife to bring to a gunfight," he said casually.

"It has its uses. You can't sleep either?" Audrey asked, yawning. Like clockwork, her practicing was beginning to work its magic on her restless mind.

"Oh I can sleep like baby, Hero. I just figured you couldn't, not tonight at least."

"What? Why would you think that? You didn't sneak into my room did you?" Her grip on the sword tightened.

Wernher let out a let out an annoyed sigh. "Hero, I think we've established by now that approaching you unannounced is a death sentence. You've already held a gun to my head in your sleep, so why would I want you doing that when you're awake?"

Audrey didn't say anything at first. Wernher had successfully gotten the drop on her before and Kiarné had done it again tonight. Before she'd thought she had too much of an edge; now she wondered if she was losing it altogether. "I guess I'll buy that," she answered uncertainly. "What made you think I'd be up though?"

"Because if I were in your shoes, I'd feel the exact same way."

"Uh huh. And how do think I'm feeling right now?"

"While you ain't a coward, not by a long shot, you are nervous as hell. Though the sword stuff does wonders for your poker face."

Audrey chuckled. "Right, thanks for the insight, Wernher, but I'm fine. I just don't sleep well away from home is all."

"Well then you are going to have a bitch of a time over the next several days."

"You're making the Pitt sound like a tropical paradise! And here I had the wrong impression the whole time."

Wernher stood up and spit out the wad of chewing tobacco he'd been sucking on. "Whatever, Hero. I actually didn't come here just to bullshit with you. There's something I want you to see."

"So you were going to wake me up anyway, I take it?"

"No, I would have sent Kiarné to do it. You two seemed to be hitting it off after all."

Audrey, who had been walking towards Wernher, froze for a split second then forced herself to keep moving. Had Wernher overheard what she and Kiarné had talked about? Had Kiarné told him anything? Told him everything? She swallowed and tried her best to play it cool. "Well, you know…us girls…" she said, shrugging as innocently as she could.

Wernher looked at her curiously. "It was a joke, Hero. Even us Pitt shits have heard of irony. Lighten up for once."

"Oh, sorry. Guess you're right about the nerves." She tried not to sound too visibly relieved.

"Forget about it," Wernher said flippantly, starting back into the upper concourse. "Come on, we're headed topside."

Audrey followed after him. "The surface? I'll need to get one of my guns then."

"Don't bother, you won't need it."

She stared at him in disbelief. "What are you talking about? It's the surface; you always need guns on the surface."

Rolling his eyes, Wernher didn't say anything right away. Instead, he kept walking and tossed his scoped revolver to her over his shoulder. "If it'll make you feel better, take it."

Audrey caught the weapon and opened its cylinder. It was loaded. Satisfied, she snapped it shut then shoved the gun between her belt and her waist, all the while trying to keep up with Wernher. The man tended not to stop if he had somewhere to be.

They exited through the Metro station's main entrance and walked up the battered concrete steps to street level. The yellow glow of the distant predawn sun illuminated a hilly landscape of flattened buildings and skeletal forests. A small cloud of dust picked its way down the abandoned street off of which the Metro station sat. A mangled blue and white sign next to the descending steps read "Welcome to McKeesport, PA." Once a thriving bedroom community of Pittsburgh, McKeesport now barely registered as a footprint of a civilization long since dead. The ruins here had a stillness to them not unlike the kind which shrouded the remains of Arlington National Cemetery.

Audrey winced as the light from the rising sun hit her eyes for the first time in roughly a week. She couldn't believe so much time had passed. It seemed like she gotten up to practice half an hour ago. Mentally cursing herself for being so careless with her time, she checked her Pip-Boy's clock – and became even more frustrated. Her clock had stopped working. Had she somehow jarred the internal components? The A series was supposed to be the most rock-solid of the line! She tabbed through some of the device's other menus and found that they still functioned. The loss of the clock bothered her though in that it could be the start of a cascade failure. The last thing she needed at this point was for the Pip-Boy to pull up the Green Screen of Death.

Wernher had seen the pained expression on her face as she'd examined her Pip-Boy. "That thing on your wrist ain't broken you know. And you're not hallucinating either; it's still night."

This filled Audrey with a mixture of relief and confusion. "How can that be?" she asked. "Isn't that sunrise? Or is it sunset? I'm all turned around here."

"Neither. It's the Pitt."

Audrey was dumbfounded. "That's, no. That can't be it. Surely that light can't be from an entire city? Is it…is it still on fire from the War?" Her senses were becoming clearer and she was now aware that this supposed sunlight's color was more of a sickly combination of mustard and orange, far different from the bleached yellow and white she was accustomed to seeing above the wastes of D.C.

"Part of what you're seeing is the exhaust flares from the steel mills. Were it not for the other part, the mills'd be the brightest thing for miles."

"And what's the other part?"

"The Allegheny. The Monongahela. The Ohio. All three are rivers, and all three are the source of the glow and of what's tearing the Pitt apart."

"Wait, that's all from water? We have the Potomac River running through the Capital Wasteland and it's nowhere _near_ that radioactive!"

"That's because it has unobstructed drainage into the Chesapeake Bay, filtering the river somewhat. The Pitt wasn't nearly as fortunate. From what I've seen, one of those fuckin' bombs must have landed smack-dab in the middle of where the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers merge into the Ohio. The settlement itself lies in the old business district triangle of Pittsburgh and because of the bombs, there's now a bowl on the western tip of the place where all the irradiated water just sits and festers. Have that unchecked for two hundred years with very little in the way of drainage," he indicated towards the Pitt, "You can fill in the gaps."

Audrey gave Wernher a puzzled look. "If it's as bad as you say it is, why am I going in there without a hazmat suit? You make it sound as though I'll turn into a giant tumor within minutes."

"You'll be fine so long as you don't go for a swim. The waters themselves are lethal, but their toxic cloud is bearable for a time – a very short time. And remember how I told you that we'd have you out before you even knew you were in? My plan is not to have you exposed to the Pitt's toxins any longer than you have to be. You know this mission's time sensitive for my people, but if nothing else maybe you'll pick up the pace since it's your health that's on the line too."

"Point taken." Audrey was about to add another comment when an inhuman howl cut through the night air. She started to draw Wernher's revolver, but the man stopped her mid-motion.

"Like I said, you won't need that. We're safe here."

"You mean you know what made that sound?" Audrey asked.

"No, though it's probably some vicious mutant freak show. But I ain't worried," Wernher answered coolly, picking up a loose piece of concrete. "Watch." He then hefted the chunk of rubble as far as he could. It bounced off brick façade of a ruined storefront and rolled into the street – where it was promptly annihilated by a small explosion.

"Mines?" observed Audrey. "I'm impressed."

"Don't thank me, thank the slavers. This was all set up before my crew took over the Station."

"How extensive is the field?"

"Far as I can tell, the length of this city block is a killzone."

"Not bad. How many mines are left, do you think?"

"Don't know. And I'm not exactly eager to take a headcount."

Audrey nodded. "Can't blame you a bit." Her mind briefly flashed back to her romp through the town of Minefield at the behest of Moira Brown. If she hadn't stumbled upon Dogmeat along the way, that little errand wouldn't have been worth all the caps in D.C.

Wernher started to head back into the Metro station. "Well, that was pretty much it. Just wanted you see our little homemade lightshow."

"Wernher, hang on a second." Ever since they had set out on their journey, one burning question had been slowly working its way to the forefront of Audrey's mind. She figured now was the last peaceful time she'd have to ask it, and she wanted this piece of information before the operation started. The only downside was that Wernher might not take too kindly to this line of questioning. "There's something I've got to know."

Now at the chain-link gate which separated the station's interior from its exterior, Wernher turned to her and folded his arms. "There's always something you need to know, Hero. What is it this time?"

Audrey stalled for a moment while trying to think of how best to phrase her thoughts. "You and I have talked about the Pitt a fair amount on this trip and because of this, I now have a better idea of what to expect. But, in spite of all that, there's something that just doesn't fit."

Wernher's features became guarded. "Go on…"

Audrey inhaled deeply. It seemed the only way to go about this now was to be blunt. "There's no nice way to put this; you know too much." She couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw fire blaze up behind Wernher's pupils when she said this. "That is to say, you have certain skills and possess information that a man accustomed to being under the boot wouldn't be privy to. Like –"

"Knowing how to handle a gun? Or knowing what I know about the Railroad and the cure?" Wernher finished.

"Yeah…that's the gist of it," Audrey replied, feeling very awkward for even bringing this topic up.

"I don't believe it," said Wernher icily. "I come to you with just the clothes on my back, pleading for help, and you have the gall to ask if I'm a real slave."

"That's not what I mea–"

"If having every little fucking detail will put your mind at ease, fine here they are. I know what I know because I ask the right questions to the right people, eavesdrop on the right conversations. Couple of Ashur's bodyguards came down to the bar in Uptown for a break. I was scrubbing the floor of the place with my bare knuckles and listened as these clowns got piss-drunk for an hour. Out of the blue, one of them starts spouting off some bullshit about Ashur having some cure for TDC but that the slaves aren't going to see a drop of it anytime soon. Next day, same bodyguards were cast down into the slave ranks with their tongues torn out. As for the Railroad, have enough newcomers tell you the same sob story about their journey and you can put two and two together. Now the gun stuff, you're gonna' _love _this."

"You know, it's alright. You've convinced me," Audrey said quickly trying to quell the growing tirade. But Wernher wasn't through.

"Like hell you're convinced!" he spat. "You want the whole picture, you're gonna' get it. That revolver you're holding is from the first boss I killed during my escape. Stole it from him then shot him with it. Figured there was nothing to it so I pointed the smoking end at the next guy and fired. And do you know what? He goes down too! Thinking I'm getting pretty good at this killing stuff, I give a few more weapons to my guys and we start killing some more people. Pretty soon, we've escaped and are running for our fucking lives!" He reached over and yanked the revolver from Audrey's belt then pointed it right between her eyes. "Don't you _ever_ question me again." He had to say this in between swallows though, as the tip of Audrey's sword was now against his Adam's apple.

"And don't _you _ever point your gun at me again," she hissed, her tone cold and hard. "Most people who do that wind up dead. I've let you do it twice. And I'm running out of fucking patience."

The 'f' word didn't enter Audrey's vocabulary very often. The last person to hear her use it was one Colonel Augustus Autumn, the man responsible for her father's death. His bleached skull was now sitting atop the desk in Audrey's apartment, finding occasional use during evenings when Audrey and Fawkes reenacted Shakespeare – specifically Hamlet – out of whimsical boredom.

She walked forward until she had him pressed against the chain-link gate. "Put away the damn gun or I'm giving you an instant tracheotomy." Grudgingly, Wernher lowered the revolver but the withering gaze he wore remained fixed. She stepped closer to him, keeping a steady hand on her blade. Any more pressure and the tip of the sword would punch through Wernher's neck. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"Shut up! I'm not finished. I'm sorry if I've touched a nerve with you. All I wanted to do was clear the air on this point, but now I know any personal information is off limits for you unless it's the death of your mother. And this whole trust issue? You're right, I don't trust you entirely and I'd be insulted if you trusted me entirely. But my being here right now should be enough for you to see I'm in this to the hilt. I've packed my gear, I've left my friends behind on your insistence and got my ass beaten by a freaking reaver to save your sorry hide! I'm not looking for proof from you, Wernher; I'm looking for qualifying information. You've provided, for which I'm grateful." She leaned in. "But don't you feed me that brahmin crap about me not believing you. I wouldn't be here unless I believed in you and your cause." She released him then pushed him to the side as she swung open the gate. "I'll be down at the handcar at 6:00 a.m. If you're not there, then I'm going on alone. Maybe _that _will be enough proof for you."

Audrey left Wernher to rub his sore throat as she stalked off into the station.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Audrey found herself dressed in her combat armor and tapping her foot impatiently on the handcar's metal deck. All packed and ready to go, she had said her goodbyes to the freed slaves who were up and proceeded to the tracks. That fact that she was still steaming from the previous night's confrontation with Wernher had driven her to be down here earlier than planned. <em>I ought to just show that bastard up and leave now,<em> she thought, surprised to find that urge so tempting. The desire was snuffed out as she looked up to see Wernher making his way down the escalator.

"Glad you could make it," she said evenly.

Wernher tossed his pack on the car and didn't return her greeting. He grunted and started manning the drive pump. Audrey followed his lead and soon they were underway.

Just over two hours later, they reached the end of the tunnel. The handcar stopped at the edge of a dilapidated rail yard surrounded by high rock formations. The sky was still the same sickly yellow-orange as she had seen the other night and the air here had a barely visible haze to it and with it a putrid taste and smell. Above the northern rocky hills, a pair of silhouetted smokestacks pumped pitch-black clouds into the sky. Clearly this place was alive, though not well.

As they coasted to a stop, the motion sensors on Audrey's Pip-Boy went active. "Looks like we've got company," she muttered, showing Wernher her screen which now displayed a series of passive blips. "Although this is to be expected."

"Yeah," Wernher whispered as he locked the brake. "That looks about right. Usually there's two up high with one on the ground and another floating from level to level. They don't keep the depot too fortified as there's little to no chance of outside incursion."

"And who'd want to break into the Pitt besides us?"

"Exactly."

"How do you want to play it?" Audrey asked quietly as she slung her duffle bag over her shoulder and stepped down from the handcar.

"Right now just stay behind me while I do the talking," Wernher answered.

Audrey looked at him in bemusement. "Talking? You're the most wanted man in the Pitt, Wernher. What exactly you do hope to gain by talking?"

"Buying time, Hero. Buying time while you decide who to shoot first."


	9. Chapter 9

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 9.**

Audrey followed Wernher as he walked down the track toward the center of the train yard. There, a man stood waiting for them, wearing grimy jeans with spiked shin guards and a bandolier of shotgun shells which haphazardly covered his otherwise bare torso. Wernher waved for her to hang back as he approached their one-man welcoming committee. Make that four-man, she corrected herself. Up on the roof of the depot building behind and to her left, a sentry watched their progress, while another followed suit from atop a wrecked freight inspection superstructure which straddled the tracks. To her immediate left, the "floater" appeared from behind a large dumpster. _And the gang's all here._

"Hey, hey! What are you guys doing here?" Wernher said to the man on the tracks, addressing him as he would a friend he'd just bumped into in the grocery store.

_Who to kill?_ Such a simple question, Audrey mused as she surveyed the scene. Back when she had just left Vault 101, a question such as this would have made her balk with disgust. Now it was just the nature of the beast that was her life. Leave it unanswered, and you'd probably wind up dead or cowering in hole for the rest of your life. Give in to this inquiry and you might lose yourself, but at the end of the day you'd still be alive. _Who to kill?_ The floater? He was the closest to her and his full attention was lacking. He seemed to be having a difficult time deciding whether Audrey or Wernher was more of a threat.

The slaver in front of Wernher was speaking now. "…ask you the same thing, Wernher," he said in raspy growl. "You got a lot of guts coming back to the Pitt."

"Yeah?" Wernher said spitting a stream of tobacco. "Guess that's the difference between you and me. I have a lot of guts. You don't."

_The man doesn't have guts? Who says that? _Audrey shook her head in quiet disbelief. Wernher had had a chance for an epic comeback and he'd blown it. Oh well; maybe she should take out the sentry behind her first… She did have an assault rifle and had been training it on Audrey the entire time. With her out of the way and an easy dispatch of the clueless floater, the other two would be –

The sound of Wernher's gunshot shattered any train of thought she might have had. As it reverberated off the rock walls of the grotto, the noise amplified to the level of a cannon shot, or so it seemed to everyone in the near vicinity. Audrey had just enough time to see Wernher's arm jerking back from the recoil before her muscle memory took over. The next thing she knew, she'd dropped her bag and had stitched a line of bullet holes up the center of the floater's body and was turning to unload on the sentry behind her. Except the sentry got to her first. Of the flurry of bullets that the sentry fired her way, one caught Audrey in the left shoulder and sent her spinning to the ground. She was fortunate that the projectile struck her armor's bulletproof shoulder bell, and didn't destroy her glenohumeral joint. That didn't stop the impact from sending a jolt of numbing pain down her left arm. Knowing she was currently at a disadvantage, Audrey fired sporadically to keep the sentry pinned down while backpedaling behind a short wall of cinderblocks stacked next to the end of a derailed boxcar. She found Wernher here as well, the two of them apparently having had the same idea.

"Hero! You okay?" Wernher shouted, as he pumped two more shots around the side of the car. Audrey gathered he still had one or more targets to deal with. She hadn't actually seen the slaver in front of him go down.

"Yeah, I'm alright," she answered. "I'm just going to have a stinger for a little while." She sat up and let loose another burst, this time catching her sentry looking. A small fountain of red arced up from the target's neck and Audrey watched as she collapsed behind her sandbag barricade. "So this is your plan?" she called out to Wernher. "I thought the whole point was for me to pick the first one!"

"You took too long!"

"I _what_? You talked to your guy all of five seconds! How is that enough time to pick a shot?" she demanded.

Wernher didn't respond, instead stepping over the cinderblocks and firing off a single shot. There was a cry of pain followed by the sound a body toppling to the ground. Audrey peered over the wall to see the first slaver lying dead with a bleeding hole in his abdomen and the inspection rig sentry resting on the ground with his neck at an unnatural angle.

"Shit," Wernher swore. "They must have upped the guard count since my escape." He motioned further down the depot.

Looking over to where he was pointing, Audrey saw a trio of reinforcements running down the hill that presumably led up and out of the rail yard. "Gee, I wonder why?" she replied sarcastically. She reached out and pulled Wernher back behind the boxcar. "You stay here and draw their fire while I head around the right side and flank them," she told him as she reloaded her submachine gun. She was gone before he could object.

Audrey threaded her way between the right side of the boxcar and the rock face. She heard Wernher shooting at the slavers on the other side and hoped he wasn't exposing himself too much; though she hadn't really given him much of a choice in the matter. When she emerged on the other end of the boxcar, she quickly checked up the hill to her right, taking a small measure of relief at seeing no other slavers attempting to join the party. Cutting to her left, she found two of the slavers still engaging Wernher, the third lying face down and motionless in the dirt. They hadn't seen her and she took full advantage of the opportunity. Without breaking stride, she took aim and mowed down the two remaining assailants in quick succession. The battle was over for the moment, the entire firefight having lasted less than three minutes. Wernher stepped out from behind the boxcar to inspect the aftermath.

"Any more of 'em?" he asked cautiously.

"No," Audrey replied after she'd checked the hill again. "We're clear. Though with this place, that isn't saying much."

"It'll work for now," Wernher growled. He then promptly walked over to the body of the first slaver and unceremoniously put a bullet in the dead man's head. The sound made Audrey flinch.

"You miss a spot?"

"No, just needed to get that out."

"Special case, that one?" she queried further, indicating the body at Wernher's feet.

"You could say that. This son of a bitch was one of the slaves that I planned to escape with. Guess he got promoted after he sold us out to the bosses. It's because of him that I didn't make it out with more people."

"Ah. Good to know."

They looted the bodies, Wernher stockpiling all the leftover ammunition and weaponry and Audrey stashing any stimpacks she could find in her bag. Once finished, they proceeded up the hill until they reached a tall chain-link gate set into the rocks about halfway up the path. Here, Wernher stopped and turned to her, a haunted expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" Audrey asked. "Why are we stopping?"

"This is where you and I go our separate ways, Hero. I need to stay behind and coordinate this thing, so it's up to you from here on out," Wernher said heavily. "This path leads to the Tenth Street Bridge, the only way into or out of the city. If I set foot up there, I'm a dead man. See, they've got a sniper stationed on the bridge's northern tower, and this guy doesn't miss – plus, he knows my face. If you're dressed up like a slave though, he'll let you across. His job is to keep slaves in, not out – unless that slave happens to be me. Anyway, get to the other side, and it's just a short walk until you reach the settlement itself."

"If this guy's such a crack shot, how did you escape?" The question escaped Audrey's mouth before she could think to stop it. _That was a real bitchy thing to ask_, she scolded herself. Was she trying to catch Wernher in a lie?

As expected, Wernher balled up his fists and glowered at her. "For Christ's sake, Hero! Do you really need to know that _right _now? Fine," he scowled. "We made it out because this particular sniper wasn't on duty. The night shift guy's usually drunk so it wasn't much of an issue. You fuckin' happy now? Stay on topic here! There's more I need to tell you before you go," Wernher said insistently. Audrey nodded and allowed for him to continue.

"You won't be able to take anything with you when you go in. If it's on you, the bosses will confiscate it."

"And I'm supposed to do what, exactly? Are you going to watch my stuff?" Audrey asked skeptically.

"While that is the practical solution, I know you'd be worried sick if you left your luggage unattended within ten feet of me. So, I've got this to throw your way. When you get to the top of the hill, there'll be a bombed-out building to your left just before you get to the bridge. That's a known Wildman camp, and the slavers tend to ignore it and treat it as just a tourist attraction for the new slaves they bring in. If you can take the place, it'll be a good spot to stash your stuff."

"Anything else I should know?"

"Well for starters, the bridge is dotted with land mines. So watch out for those. Oh, and this is very important." He stepped closer to her and stuck out his index finger for emphasis. "When you get to the gate in your disguise, do _exactly _as the guards tell you. Give them any lip, try and assault them, they'll end you without a second's hesitation. I don't care what they ask you to do; they say jump, you say how high, they say stoop, you say how low. Got me?" Audrey nodded again. "I need you _alive _for this plan to succeed, Hero. Once you're inside, find a slave named Midea. She's the one person on the inside who'll be able to help you. Remember: your goal is to get access to Ashur and find the cure. After you have it, I'll contact you. Don't worry about the how on that one; just know that I can and will be in touch."

"Get in. Find Midea. Got it," Audrey answered firmly.

"Good, good. Anything else you want to know before this shit gets real?"

"I suppose this is a long shot, but are you absolutely sure I can't sneak a weapon in?"

Wernher looked at her and hesitated for a second. "Well…" he started, making little effort to hide the foci of his gaze. "You might be able to get a small gun or knife past them if you can conceal it just right. I can provide what you need, but I can't promise that they won't see it and just gun you down. Which one do you want? The gun or the knife?"

"I'll take the gun."

"You sure about this?"

"Definitely," she said confidently.

Wernher nodded. He reached into one of his pockets and produced a small snub-nosed revolver, a .32 pistol to be precise. He handed it to her. "Okay, here you go. It's smaller than that silenced job you got, so it might actually work. But don't take it out until you get past the gate," he cautioned.

Audrey opened and spun the gun's cylinder, checking to see if it was loaded. Finding that indeed it was, she turned around and undid the vest of her combat armor. She then proceeded to slip the pistol down into her bosom.

"Thanks," she said once had readjusted her vest. "I'm sure I can put this good use."

"I'm sure you can. Just remember to use it sparingly."

"I will," Audrey replied, turning to go.

"Hero."

"Yeah, Wernher?"

"Good luck." They silently shook hands.

Audrey turned back uphill and started walking. This time though, the weight of this enormous responsibility made her steps feel heavier than they ever had before. Behind her, Wernher shut and locked the gate.

The top of the hill marked the end of the grotto. In front of her now was a scene all too common across the Wasteland, one of wreckage and ruin. To her left were the gutted remains of the office building Wernher had talked about, while the rest of the immediate landscape was taken up by the remnants of a four-lane highway. This highway had at one time led out of Pittsburgh, over the bridge, and around to a car tunnel which cut through the hills on the southern edge of the city.

Treading cautiously, she crept up to the office building's brick exterior, keeping just out of sight of the upper windows. She checked her Pip-Boy, which registered three hostile contacts inside. Why it counted some bodies as hostile while others it showed as friendlies, she'd never know. She guessed the computer had very selective programing. Slowly, she inched her way along the wall until she came to point where it ended in a jagged break. She squeezed herself in between the two large trash bins which sat in front of her and carefully peeked around the edge of the crumbling structure. From this vantage point, she could just barely make out the distant tower where the vaunted sniper was supposed to reside. _Crap._ She couldn't sneak around the front as she'd hoped. If the sniper was as good and as observant as Wernher had suggested, she'd be putting herself right at the edge of his field of view if she stepped around the corner. And at this point, she really didn't fancy getting shot; the graze from earlier hurt enough as it was.

She made her way back along the wall and stopped under one of the blown-out windows. It was easily a good five to six feet above her, but height was no factor here. She knelt down and unzipped her duffle bag, reaching in to feel her way through its contents. Eventually, she produced what she'd been looking for, a coil of thick black rope and a grappling hook. Tying the rope to the hook, she took a few steps back from the building and began to swing the hooked end in an underhanded circular motion. She waited a few seconds then slung the hook up towards the window frame. Expecting to hear the usual metallic clink of the hook embedding itself, she was surprised when her toss was followed by the sound of a sharp object piercing human flesh. Her eyes snapped upward as she reflexively pulled on the rope, and she had to stop herself from screaming as the rope went slack and a human body tumbled down upon her. She panicked and tried desperately to get the man off of her. Finally she threw him off and his body rolled limply away from her. He was dead. Dead from the moment he had fallen on her, in fact. With the initial terror of the moment having passed, Audrey could now see the cause of the man's demise: instead of embedding the grappling hook into the concrete, she'd somehow managed to hook it into the back of his head.

She looked at her Pip-Boy and saw that only two hostile blips remained. She then checked the window again. _Did the other two Wildmen hear this guy go down?_ She didn't recall hearing him scream, and the other blips weren't moving, so it stood to reason she'd gotten an accidental clean kill. Audrey waited a few more minutes just to be sure, but there was still no movement or agitated voices from inside the building. She was clear. She went over to the dead man and rolled him to where he was facedown. Planting her foot at the base of his neck, she gripped the center of the hook's claw quartet then used her leverage to forcefully wrench the hook from the man's skull. It came free with a sickening crunch. Not bothering to fling the gore off, she prepped then swung it again and this time, found purchase in the window frame. After successfully testing her weight on the line, she carefully walked her way up the wall and finally hauled herself through the window.

Looking at the building from the inside now, Audrey could barely call it a structure. The side of the building that once faced the highway was now completely gone, and with it, most of the building's internal contents. What remained were three decaying ledges that were once floors, everything else above them being blown violently from existence long ago. In the center of the ruin was a two-story tumbledown shack, its primary structural components consisting of rotting planks and metal piping. This was where the remaining radar signatures were originating from. Around and to her left, she saw a wooden ramp which led from the second floor of the office building into the top level of the shack. Feeling that it was better to work from the top down, she elected to use this route.

The two enemies inside remained motionless on her radar, even when she moved across the ramp into the shack. She soon saw why. The shack's upper level had been designated as dormitory of sorts and the two Wildmen were both sound asleep on separate bunk beds. Upon finding a healthy collection of empty syringes and jet inhalers next to their bunks, Audrey quickly deduced their slumber was drug-induced; even if they were to wake up, neither would be in any shape to fight. She quietly broke their necks to be sure though, neither man making a peep as she did. Better to die a quick and painless death than a one drawn out and filled with systematic organ failure, she reasoned.

Because of the manner in which the upper level of the shack was oriented, its walls blocked any line of sight that might be had from the bridge, making her current location relatively secure from incursion. Still, Audrey rigged the shack's entrances with land mines as a precaution. Once she had made certain no one else was around, she stripped off her combat armor; it was then that she got her first look at where the bullet had struck her left shoulder.

The round had not penetrated the flesh as she'd suspected, but that had not stopped the area around the impact from turning a mottled black and blue complete with swelling, making the blemish stand out in stark contrast from her light skin. She removed a tube of pain-relieving ointment from her pack and gently applied it to the affected area, the swelling and pain subsiding almost instantly when she did. One of many positives about pre-war medicines was that they had immensely long shelf lives. After taping a strip of gauze over the bruise, she pulled out her stealth armor and held it in front of her.

"My friend, how I have missed you," she muttered, turning the suit this way and that to inspect it for any damage. Finding none, she slipped it on, its form-fitting Nomex and Kevlar bi-weave giving her a cool and welcoming sensation.

After strapping on her black combat helmet and running a quick system check for the stealth armor, she took stock of her supplies. Her first aid supplies were solid and she had enough small food items and water to partition out for a few days. What troubled her however, was an unexpected shortage in ammunition. The events in Station Three and at the rail yard had depleted her 10mm rounds to a great extent, so much so that she wouldn't have enough to use for the submachine gun inside the Pitt and again on the return trip. Reluctantly, she put the more powerful weapon away and elected to use her silenced pistol for this operation. It might not have the shredding power of the SMG, but it would consume less rounds and be equally as effective if she picked her shots right. She slid several clips into her belt then fastened her katana to her back and a small combat knife to her front. She then shouldered her smaller recon pack. She was ready.

Audrey whispered a quick prayer then exited the shack, taking care to step over her booby-traps as she did. She hopped down to street level, the sound dampeners in her boots making the impact barely audible. Then she started for the bridge.

The Tenth Street Bridge was a monument to one of the most basic human instincts: panic. Clearly the phrase "orderly fashion" didn't have any meaning to the hundreds of people fleeing a doomed Pittsburgh. The entire span of the bridge from end to end was clogged full of cars and semi-trucks all mostly going in one direction – aside from the ones that were lying flipped or jackknifed – and National Guard trucks going the other. The evacuation efforts had clearly not been very successful, as the National Guard vehicles appeared to have been stalled by a multitude of frightened and wrecked motorists occupying the lanes they were trying to use to enter the city. Now, the graveyard of mechanical chaos served as little more than an obstacle course for those coming and going from the Pitt. Audrey could now see why the any invading army would have had such difficulty in taking the Pitt from this side; if enough firepower were directed south along the bridge, intruders could be systematically picked off as they tried to navigate this thicket of automotive decay to reach the opposite shore. The entrance to the bridge itself was marked by the pre-war road sign that at one time greeted drivers with a friendly, "Welcome to Pittsburgh!" The sign had been modified with a heavy helping of spray paint to read, "Welcome to The Pitt." _Hooray for post-apocalyptic civic pride,_ Audrey thought, shaking her head.

What stood out to her immediately was the rise in temperature. Once she was out over the Monongahela River, she could feel the deadly heat from the heavily irradiated water. Even though she had been warned about it, nothing could have prepared Audrey for the radiation bath she was getting now. She stole a glance over the side of the bridge and saw that the water itself looked a sickly shade of yellow with radioactive thermals rolling above the waves. The Geiger counter on her Pip-Boy was ticking incessantly, signaling the inevitable spike in her body's rad count. She'd have to make sure to take a healthy dose of RadAway once she reached the other side of the bridge.

After slinking through the initial cluster of cars, she climbed up on the first National Guard truck she came to. She remembered Wernher having mentioned the presence of mines on the bridge and didn't want her stealthy stroll to end prematurely with a missing leg. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to spot one of the mincemeat ninjas. There. Peeking out from underneath a pile of rubble two cars ahead of her, the telltale orange light gave the explosive device away.

"Gotcha', you little gremlin," she whispered to no one in particular.

Proceeding with caution, she approached the mine. When she was right upon it, it began to let out the customary slow rhythmic beep that was common to mines of its type. It was a sound that Audrey had heard all too often, a sound that, for many, was the last thing they ever heard – save the deafening explosion of course. As the beeping began to accelerate in tempo, she pressed down on the center of the mine and rotated its stubby circular plunger counterclockwise until she heard a click from within. The beeping stopped. The mine was now disarmed. This method would not have been advisable if the mine had been of the pressure plate variety; however, most of the mines available post-end-of-world were proximity explosives that only went off after a five second delay. The delay could be enough time to deactivate the mine, but only if one had the knowledge – and the stones – to attempt the task. Moira Brown's demonstration to her on how to do this was something Audrey mentally thanked her eccentric counterpart for every day.

Audrey kept weaving through the wrecked traffic, disarming mines as she went. She was also keeping an eye out for the sniper. It wasn't until she'd crossed roughly half of the span that she got her first glimpse of him. From this distance, he appeared as a blurry stick figure folded into a posture she knew well, as she had assumed the same stance herself on multiple occasions. Down on one knee, left arm extended while gripping the forend of his rifle, which rested on the back of his chair, right arm cocked while holding the grip and cradling the rear of the stock against his shoulder. A shooter's position.

And it was then she realized, he was aiming at her. Her cover was blown.

The sniper fired.


	10. Chapter 10

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 10.**

Audrey had just enough time to push off from one of the abandoned cars and propel herself in a slide across the pavement before the .308 round whistled overhead – and hit with the unmistakable sound of lead penetrating flesh. She rolled over onto her stomach and looked back to where she had just been. Writhing on the ground was a feral dog in the throes of death, half of its head missing. What was left of its brain hadn't gotten around to telling the rest of the body it was dead yet, as the animal's legs were still twitching. The sniper hadn't been aiming for her, she now grasped. Then again, he hadn't been trying to save her either. The dog must have picked up her scent somehow, and had been stalking her from behind while she'd been busy disabling the mines in front of her. She'd been so focused on watching for mines that she would have likely never heard the thing until it got right up on her, and any ensuing struggle would have given away her position. In a way, she now owed that sniper a debt of gratitude. Audrey made a mental note to thank him whenever she reached his post. Whether that came before or after she killed him, she didn't know.

She kept going and soon, she saw the path to the sniper's nest peeking out of the haze, a rickety combination of pipe and steel grating built up around one of the bridge's main suspension cables. She passed between two more cars, then hooked a right and hopped over the low wall that separated the bridge's pedestrian walkway from its once busy street. Doubling back, she crept along the sidewalk until she reached the ramp that led up to the top side of the suspension cable. As she ascended the ramp, Audrey had to be mindful of the numerous holes present in the grating beneath her feet. One wrong step and she could easily slip her foot through and slice her leg open on the exposed metal ends. Now at the first landing, she turned to face the segment of the ramp which went directly up a good portion of the tree-trunk-sized cable. Pausing briefly to check on the sniper, she was relieved to see that he was now leaning against the back wall of his perch taking a long drag on a handmade cigarette. His postures conveyed an attitude of complacency; he might be a hell of a shot, but even the most cold-blooded of killers succumbed to bouts of boredom from time to time. She climbed the cable and moved in.

* * *

><p>In his time as a sharpshooter for the Pitt, Raven had seen a great number of things, many of them witnessed through the cross hairs of his scope. In his line of work, these things mostly consisted of the various body parts that flew from his victims after he shot them. He had been at this particular job for so long that his work actually became somewhat of a pastime for him. Raven considered it a good day when he was able to pop the head off an escaping slave. A well-placed round to the base of the target's neck and the cranial case would launch itself into the air like a pyrotechnic star from a Roman candle.<p>

If you worked for the Pitt, an unofficial rule was that you had to carry a nickname. With a nickname, you automatically became a shade tougher, or so the theory went. Raven didn't pick his based on his appearance, however. His skin was pale with the appropriate coating of soot and grime, and his hair, if he had any to show, was light blonde in color. Rather, he found his alternative title in a decaying collection of books in the ruins of the University of Pittsburgh's Hillman Library. The collection's author: one E. A. Poe. Raven had been taken with this mysterious Poe and his short stories centered around topics of murder, death, and madness, two of which happened to be his specialties. He was specifically fond of, "The Raven." He loved the thought of being the shadowy harbinger of death, and thus a made a point before he fired every shot to whisper, "Quoth the raven, "nevermore"."

Resting his back against the wall of his perch, Raven inhaled deeply on a cigarette he'd just rolled, taking the kind of pleasure that only a smoker can from breathing in such airborne toxins. The satisfaction of fulfilling his addiction made him so relaxed, that he failed to notice immediately when the sniper rifle he'd left propped up against the railing suddenly rose up into the air and pointed itself at him. When he did, he made a sharp intake of breath and consequently sucked in and swallowed his cigarette. He leaned forward and hacked and gagged, even as he felt the lit end of the thing leaving welts on his esophagus on its way down. Resigning himself to the notion that he'd be dealing with the unknown side effects of powdered tobacco in his stomach, he turned his attention back to his rifle – the one floating in midair and pointing its business end in his direction, something which rifles of any sort weren't supposed to do.

He stumbled forward and groped for the gun, but the thing jerked back from him then wagged its barrel at him as one would an admonishing index finger. Now completely stupefied, Raven wondered if he was hallucinating.

Then the rifle did something to blow what was left of Raven's rational mind. It spun around, now aiming the opposite direction. Then it rushed backward and rammed its butt end into his skull.

* * *

><p>Audrey's Chinese stealth armor had two degrees of cloaking. The first provided coverage for her entire person. The second extended that coverage to include whatever she had in her hands, such as a weapon. Generally, she traveled and fought in the second degree, but the first degree had its uses on occasion. Aiding in the incapacitation of Raven had been one. After all, what better way to screw with a man than to make his rifle float in the air and then beat him senseless?<p>

She grunted in pain as hoisting the unconscious form of Raven into a fireman's carry reaggravated her injured shoulder. She carried him over the edge of the platform then turned to whisper into his ear.

"Thanks for the dog."

With that pleasantry taken care of, she heaved him over the side.

She watched as Raven's body tumbled end over end. He struck the port railing of a tugboat moored on the river's northern docks and ricocheted from there into the water. What happened next was anything but pleasant to the eye. Even before Raven hit the water, the river's radiation cloud had already begun to cook his body from the inside out. Now that he was floating in the foul liquid, the process only accelerated. Audrey looked on with disgust as Raven's skin began to bubble and pop. Then his body began to bloat up. Then it blew up, producing such a vile spray of organs and flesh as well as an absolutely reeking stench that she had to stagger away from the edge to avoid vomiting in her suit.

Once she had regained control of her upper digestive tract, Audrey took a moment to take in the view from her position near the top of the northern bridge tower. Being a product of the post-apocalyptic world, she was used to seeing scenes of utter devastation spreading in all directions. From up here though, the wreckage and butchery that was the Pitt seemed more all-encompassing. The Monongahela was contaminated sludge for miles in either direction, and the buildings on its northern shore looked even worse than those to the south. Above her, on the top of the sniper's bridge tower, rotting corpses dangled from rusty cables and swayed lightly in the caustic breeze.

A chill ran down Audrey's spine. She had been to many terrible places in her travels throughout the Capital Wasteland, but this was the first time since Vault 87 that she felt she was in a place inundated with pure evil. The city itself seemed like a demonic presence that was waiting for the opportunity to consume her. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fist. She wouldn't give it the pleasure.

Before she returned to pavement level, she removed the scope from Raven's rifle. It would be nice to have a monocular while in the field, given the stripped-down state of her gear. She looked through the scope and surveyed the route ahead. Before her, Tenth Street stretched on across its bridge, culminating in a pile of jagged debris four stories tall. Audrey saw that more mines lay in wait, and it made her wonder if there was some sort of safe route along the bridge and into the city that she didn't know about. Surely the slavers wouldn't want to go to all the trouble of disarming and then rearming all the mines whenever they brought in a new collection of slaves. And if such a route existed, why hadn't Wernher told her about it? Maybe the trick was to stay on top of the cars… She shook her head, as that debate was all but irrelevant at this juncture. _Might as well go ahead and get the rest of the mines_, she thought. It would only make her exit strategy that much easier if she did. Aside from the presence of the mines, the way ahead was clearly marked. Floodlights had been wired along the sides of certain buildings, and directional signs had been spray painted on those same buildings to add further emphasis. Having seen all she could and needed to see at this point, Audrey pocketed the scope and made her way down the ramp and back onto the street.

When she arrived at the other side of the bridge, Audrey discovered that the macabre display of human carnage was far from over. Her already seared eyes were greeted by a gruesome trophy exhibition. Strung up along the elevated cables of a metro tramway track were a series of meat hooks on chains. On several of these hooks were corpses in various states of decomposition. On the portion of the cables that ran across Tenth Street, a sign was posted that read: "THE ONES THAT GOT AWAY". She gathered that whoever had posted that sign must be pissed as hell that Wernher and his friends were not rotting up there with the rest of the bodies.

If the floodlights and spray paint were to be trusted, then the street on which the tramway track ran was the one that she needed to follow now. It led to Downtown, according to the signs. Audrey gathered that Downtown was some sort of district within the Pitt. And a way to a district meant a way to get in.

She was about start disarming the row of land mines that led off of Tenth and onto the tramway street when the one furthest from her started to beep. She looked up in time to see two half-starved men sprinting from around the corner. They'd triggered the remaining field. The first mine blew just as Audrey dove into an open semi trailer. Then the rest of them went up, and so did the men, if their tortured screams were any indication of their fate. When the sounds of raining bits of asphalt and metal ceased, Audrey tentatively stuck her head out to survey the damage.

The remaining mines had been obliterated and the men – what was left of them – were scattered about in pieces too small to identify. They had been slaves, of that Audrey was sure. The slavers she had seen thus far had looked better fed than these two unfortunate souls. But why had the slaves been allowed to get this far out of the Pitt? Surely security would have been beefed up after Wernher's escape, she thought. _Unless…_

She rounded the corner and crouched in the shadows. She pulled out Raven's scope and looked through it. Ahead of her stood the main gate to the Pitt, an imposing steel construct topped with sentry catwalks and a coil of razor wire. There were three slavers guarding it, two men and one woman. The one in spiked metal armor was grudgingly passing a small sum of bottle caps to the other man while the woman looked on and laughed. The man who'd received the money raised his arms as if miming an explosion. Audrey felt the black taint of anger growing inside her. Those slaves had been nothing more than sport.

Across the street from Audrey was a burned out storefront. She sized it up then looked down at her Pip-Boy, a plan beginning to weave itself together in her mind.

* * *

><p>In the Pitt, one never heard a note of music unless it came from the mouth of a drunken buffoon at the Bar &amp; Grill. Even then, the lyrics were slurred and the tune iffy at best. That's why it was such a surprise for Crankcase and her fellow gate guards to hear crystal clear music coming from down the street.<p>

Mex, the most senior of the three, looked over at her then at Grid Iron, the other guard. "Grid, go check it out," he said.

"To hell with that!" Grid Iron shot back. "I just won the bet. Make Crank do it."

"Fine," Mex grumbled. "Crank, go check it out."

Crankcase scoffed. "You're such a fucking pushover when it comes to gambling, Mex. A real man would have gotten up and taken care of it himself."

"S'that so?" Mex sneered. "The only real man in this place is Ashur, and that stands until he says otherwise. So, seeing as how there are no real men around here, looks like you gotta' do as I say. Now get goin'!"

Making sure to give Mex the customary vulgar hand signal of disapproval, Crankcase scowled and stalked off to find the source of the music. The tune was a pre-war selection, "Maybe", by the Ink Spots. The lead vocalist was singing in an octave so high, Crankcase couldn't tell what gender they were. She toted her silenced assault rifle to the intersection of the tramway street and Tenth and found the sound emanating the storefront on the corner. Cautiously, she raised her weapon and stepped forward.

"Hello, anyone in there?" she called out.

Back at the gate, Grid Iron jeered, "What's the matter, Crank? You scared of a freakin' concert?" This was followed by laughter from him and Mex both.

Crankcase kneaded the grip of her gun in agitation. "One more word out of you, Grid Iron, and I'm coming back there and shoving your winnings and a grenade up your ass!" she snapped back. This only brought more hoots and hollers.

Spitting in disgust, Crankcase entered the building after neither seeing nor hearing any response to her previous query. What remained of the store was not large at all, leaving little for her to check. Other than a mattress and two chairs in a corner and a pair of oil drums along the one wall, there was not much to the place. Yet the music had to be coming from somewhere…

"_Maaaabyeeeee, / yooou'll think / of me, _

_When yooou / are aaaaaall / aaaaalone_," the singer crooned.

She followed the sounds around to the rear portion of the store that wasn't caved in. Under a piece of fallen ceiling, a small computer screen glowed a brilliant green. The music was coming from it. Crankcase slung her rifle and picked up the strange device. Turning it over in her hands she couldn't figure out what the heck it was. It was a radio computer of some sort, encased in a cylindrical metal ring with hinges on one side. The glowing green screen sat in the middle of the thing surrounded by a series of buttons and dials. Crankcase tied searching for a release point on the metal ring but failed to find a way to get it open.

"_Maybe / the one who / is waitiiiing / for you,_

_Will prooove untrue, / then what willlll / yooou do?_"

Crankcase was so engrossed by the unusual gadget in her hands, she didn't feel the blade crossing her throat until it was too late.

* * *

><p>"The hell did she find in there?" Mex griped. "Been gone a little long, don't you think?"<p>

Grid Iron just shrugged and took a swig from his bottle of beer.

Mex's patience was wearing thin. "Crank!" he yelled. "The fuck you doing?"

Only the singing Ink Spots answered him back.

Mex swore again. "Come on. Let's go see what's up," he said resignedly, motioning to Grid Iron.

Grid Iron looked surprised. "You serious? Mex, we own every inch of this town including every building on this street. Even if it were a trog in there, Crank's got a goddamn Infiltrator. She'd mow the thing down in a blink," he protested.

"Yeah? Well guess what? We got Infiltrators too, so we can go back her up," Mex growled, hefting his so-named silenced assault weapon. "Now move your worthless ass," he ordered.

The two men started down the street to the store where Crankcase had disappeared. When they reached the blown out windows, Mex stuck his head inside.

"Crank?" Then he spotted something that made the color drain from his face. "Son of a bitch!"

The two gate guards stormed the building and ran over to where a pair of booted feet stuck out from around the corner that led to the back of the store. The body, to which the feet were attached, was not a pretty sight.

Crankcase was sitting propped up against the pile of rubble blocking off the rest of the store. Her head lolled to one side and her eyes were rolled back into their sockets. Her neck had been sliced open from end to end with surgical precision, blood still dripping from the open wound. In her lap was a portable radio with a glowing green screen. Grid Iron lost what little nerve he possessed.

"Holy shit! Shit shit shit shit shit _shit_!" he stammered, nearly tripping over a chair as he hurriedly backed up. "What the hell is going on here, man?"

"Don't you run on me, you sniveling little trog lover," Mex snarled, rounding on him. "Someone's screwing with us. Look at her hands," he said, motioning towards the body.

With great trepidation, Grid Iron forced himself to return to the corpse. Indeed, Crankcase's hands had been tampered with postmortem. Both were facing up and balled into fists, each with the middle finger extended.

"They're trying to send us a message," he stuttered. "They're mocking us, Mex!"

"No. It's sign language."

Mex and Grid Iron froze. That voice had not been their own.

"For, "You're fucked"."

The gate guards' brains had enough time to collectively process the thought of, "Oh shit!" before they were summarily splattered all over the wall.

* * *

><p>After injecting herself with several doses of RadAway to eliminate the radiation poisoning from the bridge, Audrey wiped Crankcase's blood from her Pip-Boy and reattached the Vault-Tec computer to her wrist. The biometric locks clicked into place and she felt instantly more at ease. The Pip-Boy having been part of her existence since her tenth birthday made taking it off feel like she was leaving her entire arm behind, so disconcerting was its absence. After pilfering their ammunition, she hid the gate guard's bodies under a bookcase she'd managed to wrestle free from the pile of rubble. Then she took a closer look at their weapons.<p>

To Audrey, the type of gun these slavers were using was the Holy Grail of her fighting style. Modeled off the same design as the standard R91 assault rifle used by the former United States Armed Forces, this weapon featured a long suppressor extension at the end of its barrel and a scope mounted on the rail. Its lack of a stock would have made it front-heavy with the suppressor attached, were it not for extra weight added to the grip to restore balance. Picking up one of the Infiltrators, she stepped out into the street and cradled the gun in a firing stance. Taking aim at one of the ornamental corpses hanging near the top of the bridge, she executed a test firing.

And came away thoroughly dissatisfied.

For a scoped firearm, the Infiltrator came up short in one very important respect: accuracy. It had an abnormally high rate of fire which consequently made the recoil worse, throwing off the aim. Audrey tried the other two Infiltrators, getting the same results with both. Disappointed with the results, she examined the guns again and found the cause inconsistency between their design and output. The selective fire switch on each gun had been welded to remain at the fully automatic slot. She would never get the true sense of how such a weapon was fired, because these examples had been modified to a dysfunctional state.

Audrey sighed and slung one of the Infiltrators over her shoulder anyway. It would be good to have a spray and pray type of weapon in her limited arsenal here, given her unexpected lack of the Ultra SMG. _At least it's silenced_, she told herself. _That way when I miss, no one will hear._

She checked the street again. Her shots had not been heard and the gate guards were not being missed…yet. She put her window of opportunity to good use.

Still cloaked, she darted through the now open gate then climbed up to its catwalk. Just inside the gate was the main wall separating the Pitt from the outside world. The large door in the wall's center was not an option. A door that big opening and closing by itself would draw a great deal of unnecessary attention from anyone who happened to be nearby. She couldn't take that risk. Audrey crouched low then sprang forward into the air, arcing her body up and over the rolls of razor wire gracing the top of the wall.

Her feet had just hit the ground when a concussive force abruptly threw her sideways. Inside her stealth suit, alarms were going off as its systems short-circuited, then shut down altogether. As her face mask retracted, Audrey could see crackling lines of blue electricity scrambling erratically over the black surface of her armor. And that's when the awful realization hit her.

She could see her armor.

She was visible.

Her eyes frantically darted back and forth trying to get a grip on her surroundings. She was in a courtyard filled with people, some of whom were slaves, most of whom were slavers.

And every one, to a man, was staring at her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 11.**

**_Author's Note:_  
><strong>

**_For those of you who are bored with the relatively stick-to-game plot approach I've taken thus far, Chapter 11 is my gift to you. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my monkey wrench in the original plot of The Pitt. See if you can find it... (Hint: it's blatantly obvious.)  
><em>**

**_- T. Fett  
><em>**

* * *

><p>The slavers converged at once.<p>

Having dropped the Infiltrator after she'd been stunned into visibility, Audrey crawled back against the wall and fumbled for her silenced pistol. She drew it, only to have it jerked out of her hand by one of the five slavers who now surrounded her. Her katana and combat knife were the next to go. She was then restrained by the two largest men of the bunch.

_What the hell happened_, she wondered. What had she missed that had taken down her suit? Her scanners hadn't picked up any anomalies, and there was no conceivable way she'd been spotted prior to jumping the wall.

"Well well well. What do we have here?" said one of the slavers. Audrey deduced that he must be the leader of this lot, as he'd spoken first. "Not every day we get people walkin' in here of their own free will." He ripped off Audrey's helmet. "Especially not one so…pretty." The man let this last word slither out of his mouth like a hungry serpent.

He ran his finger across Audrey's cheek, letting it tug briefly at her lower lip. She said nothing as he did this, but her body betrayed her feelings as it made a disgusted shudder. This man was repulsiveness personified. His dark skin was scabbed over in several huge patches and his teeth and breath had seen much better days. His eyes, though, were what unnerved her the most. They were the eyes of a predator, a predator that got whatever it wanted from its prey.

"Reddup, quit thinking with your dick and start using your damn head to find out how she got here," another slaver growled to the first.

Audrey's blood turned to ice on hearing this name. Reddup. The same psychotic rapist pig that Kiarné had alluded to. And now here he was, standing in front of her instead of in front of her gun barrel, mentally undressing her with every flick of his ravenous eyes.

Reddup turned to the other slaver that had spoken. "Yeah, shit," he grumbled, clearly reluctant to turn his attention away from Audrey's visage. "You're right. Mex wouldn't have just let her stroll in here unchecked. He'd have fucked her first!"

This drew a chorus of laughter from the slavers around Audrey. She clenched her teeth and looked for even a sliver of an escape opportunity. She found none.

"You and you. Go check the gate," Reddup ordered, motioning to two of his men.

They did. When they returned several minutes later, their faces were sullen. Somehow, they'd found the bodies Audrey had tried to conceal, and they made a point to tell Reddup about this. They also reported no additional signs of movement or incursion. Reddup turned back to Audrey, his face no longer bearing a lustful countenance. Now he was pissed, plain and simple.

"You! You bitch!" he snarled, clamping a calloused hand around her throat and drawing her closer to him. "Those were my friends you killed! I'm gonna' leave your skinned corpse out in the Yard for the trogs!" he hissed.

"Then you should have picked more durable friends," Audrey shot back, though this came out strained due to Reddup's vice grip on her neck. "Would you like to know how they died?" she asked coldly, locking eyes with him. "They were pitiful. Walked to the slaughter, every one of them. The one with the crappy goatee even cried right before I drilled his brains. Sobbed, like a pathetic sap."

Audrey knew she'd played a rendition of dueling banjos with Reddup's last nerve, but at this point she didn't care. She knew she was screwed either way. She wanted to go down swinging, even if her blows were merely verbal jabs. Reddup's hand began to shake. He let go of Audrey and his entire body began twitching, so great was his anger. Then, he let out a scream like the cry of a rabid mole rat. Lashing out in a blind rage, he struck Audrey violently across the brow with his police baton. Her knees buckled with the force of the blow and she sagged in the arms of her captors, blood running into her eyes from the wound.

"Let go of her!" Reddup roared.

The two men on her arms did as Reddup commanded. As she fell to her knees, Audrey braced herself for what was to come next, whatever that might be. She found out for certain when Reddup's foot connected with her chin and toppled her to the pavement. She barely had time to spit the blood and a tiny piece of her tongue from her mouth before Reddup ground his boot into her face. She felt her left arm being wrenched forcefully upward and a pair of grubby hands messing with her Pip-Boy. They were stripping her of her valuables before they disposed of her, that she was sure of now. Even with her mind in its shocked state, she knew they'd never get the thing off. The device was specially coded to her, meaning the release mechanisms would only respond to her touch. She thought she heard Reddup shouting something about a saw, and it was only when the sound of a gas powered motor suddenly filled her ears that she realized what they intended.

Someone grabbed Audrey's left wrist, then it and her arm were stretched to where the latter nearly came out of socket. Even with blood in her eyes and her face pressed into the asphalt, Audrey could still make out what the slavers were about to do. She started thrashing about in an attempt to get away, but weight was suddenly applied to her legs and she was further immobilized. She watched in pure horror as a gruesome looking saw with a massive spinning blade was slowly lowered to a point just above her elbow. Audrey screamed and tried to jerk away, but a swift kick to her gut from Reddup put a stop to that. The blade came closer, so close now that she could feel each pass of its teeth as they scythed through the air. Tears started to mix with the blood on her face as she watched this unfold. She squeezed her eyes shut as she didn't want to bear witness to what was about to come.

"Cease your actions!" an authoritative voice boomed from across the plaza.

The saw's blade stopped moving as its engine was cut off. Audrey grimaced as Reddup adjusted his position and twisted the sole of his boot into her cheek.

"Lord Ashur!" Reddup was saying. "I didn't realize you were watching, sir."

_Ashur?_ Audrey's numbed mind barely processed a name being associated with the voice before the thought faded from her consciousness like static on a radio.

"I am always watching, Reddup," Ashur rebuked. "This is _my _city after all, is it not?"

"It is, sir."

"I see we have a visitor to the Pitt," Ashur said evenly. "Tell me, Reddup, what has she done to deserve the treatment we have given her thus far?"

"She murdered the gate guards, Lord Ashur," Reddup spat. "Tried sneaking in here after she killed them in cold blood. What for, I don't know. Probably got Raven too from the look of things."

"They were weak if she was able to cut through them so easily," came the cold reply.

"Y-yes, sir," Reddup said shakily.

"How was she apprehended?"

"We wouldn't have seen her coming, sir, had we not had that string of pulse mines on the inside of inner gate. She hit them and they fried whatever stealth tech she had on."

"Very good," said Ashur. "Tell me about that device on her arm. I assume you were attempting to extract it from her to bring to me?"

"Um…yes my Lord," Reddup lied. "It's some sort of computer thingy. We couldn't get the damn thing off though, so I was going to cut her arm off to get at it."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't, Reddup," said Ashur. "That "thingy" as you put it is actually a Pip-Boy 3000. It has biometric locks that cannot be opened by anyone other than the wearer of the device."

"Then we'll make her do it," said Reddup, starting to go for Audrey's free hand.

"No, you will not."

"My Lord?" Reddup now sounded utterly confused. Audrey couldn't blame him as she was in a very similar boat at the moment. The only difference was that she felt as though hers had more holes in it at present.

"This woman is not like the normal stock that we take into the Pitt. She came here for a reason and in order to find out what that reason is, we need to keep her alive," explained Ashur.

"So you want us to interrogate her then?"

"Again, your intentions are noble, Reddup, but that is not what this situation calls for. Have her processed as you would the normal workers but leave her Pip-Boy with her. This one is unique and I am curious to see how she will perform. Her actions to come will reveal her intentions in due time."

"Yes, my Lord," answered Reddup submissively.

While this conversation had been taking place, Audrey had been able to process very little of it. Her brain was in such a state of flux from the tumultuous events of the past few minutes, she was having difficulty stringing thoughts together. At most, she had gotten the sense that she was about to be spared further torture at the hands of Reddup and his goons and that her Pip-Boy would remain with her.

The grinding rubber on her face was suddenly lifted and she was hauled upright. Reddup was glaring at her, his mood having only marginally improved.

"You're a lucky bitch, you know that?" he grumbled. "The boss has taken a liking to you for whatever reason. Doesn't mean that I have though. You'd best watch yourself from now on," he added menacingly.

Audrey gave him a dull look from the eye least clouded by blood. "When this is over, I will look for you, I _will_ find you, and I will kill you."

Reddup merely laughed at this. "Good luck! Welcome to the Pitt." He then hauled back and slammed the handle of his baton into her temple.

Audrey's blood red world now went completely black.

* * *

><p>The sounds of large automated machinery roused Audrey from her stupor. She didn't want to open her eyes just yet, their closed blackness being the only comfort she currently felt. All around her, she could hear loud booms and clanks of industrial equipment and the high pitched shriek of steel saws carving up metal. These sounds alone served to increase the splitting headache she already had. All she wanted now was to go back to sleep and make this audio nightmare end.<p>

She tried to bring her hands up to cover her ears but found that she couldn't. Her arms felt restricted as if something were holding them in place. She tested her legs. The same feeling was present there as well. She rocked her head from side to side. That, she could move.

Reluctantly, Audrey opened her eyes. Her eyelids tugged slightly from the dried blood which had crusted upon them, but she forced them to retract fully. At first, her vision was very fluid with objects swimming into and out of focus. A moment or two passed and the watery feeling eventually cleared. She looked down and her mouth fell open in shock. She was naked. Completely stark naked from her exposed breasts all the way down to her lower extremities. Again, she tried to move her arms and hands to cover herself, but to her dismay, she found them to be strapped firmly to the metal chair in which she now sat. Her legs were bound to its legs and she was further restrained by a large steel shackle which protruded from the chair's back and encircled her abdomen. The chair itself was bolted to the floor, making doubly sure its occupants wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. Her lips began to tremble and her heart began beating faster. Then the rest of her mental light bulbs started coming on and her apprehension only increased.

There were other people in this place with her.

Dozens of people in fact, all moving about this factory in which she was being held captive. Her exposed areas were now a public display for all the world to see. Audrey choked back a sob as her shame now plunged to a new low. If such humiliation was designed to break the remaining resolve of the slaves, it was definitely working. Never more in her life had she wanted to crawl into a hole and die, so great was her mortification. She ducked her head, and as she did, a realization suddenly struck her. None of the people were looking at her. Not a one. They were all scurrying or trudging back and forth attending to their various tasks like she wasn't even there. Where was she? What did they intend to do to her?

Overhead, a large bucket screeched along on its guide rails with hung down from the ceiling. As the bucket moved, it showered the floor below with sparks. Audrey winced as one of the fiery particles hit the bare skin of her leg.

The feeling of a dry rough hand caressing her cheek made her flinch in surprise.

"Well now, if it isn't Lord Ashur's newest pet!" This voice came from the woman who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and was now standing at Audrey's side.

She was about Audrey's height though a little thinner in the build and dressed in exceedingly short black cutoff pants, and what could only be described as a bikini top made from two repurposed mini nuke nose cones. Her looks suggested East Asian descent, though her accent put her origin in the Boston or New York area. Her hair was cut in the same long mohawk style that Kiarné's had been only hers was a natural black.

The woman crossed to where she now stood in front of Audrey, her long-fingered hands resting on her hips.

"Our Lord has clearly believes you are distinctive from the others," she said.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Audrey stuttered perplexedly.

The woman pursed her lips and then her expression changed to an impish grin. "Oh come now, don't be coy," she responded mischievously. "It isn't every day someone who's done what you have gets the attention of Lulu."

"Who is Lulu, and what exactly have I done?"

The woman pointed to herself. "Lulu is Lulu." She now walked behind Audrey and began to run her fingers through her hair. "As far as what you did…when favored pets of Lord Ashur's are killed in such a fashion as you carried out, the killer is usually killed in turn. Slowly. Violently even. But you, an otherwise bad pet, have been given a second chance."

As Lulu explained this, she was meticulously arranging every hair on Audrey's head in a way that suited her. It was all Audrey could do to sit there and endure this uncomfortable preening. If her hands hadn't been tied down, she would have reached back and raked her fingernails across Lulu's face.

"Where are my clothes?" Audrey asked tentatively.

Lulu paused in her stroking. "Your clothes?"

"Yes, the articles I am decidedly lacking at the moment."

"What you came in here with is no longer yours, pet. Your possessions are what Lord Ashur permits you to have. Nothing more," answered Lulu, indicating Audrey's Pip-Boy.

"I see," said Audrey numbly. She would never see her stealth armor again, she thought. The guns, the grenades, the pack; all of those things could be replaced. But her armor, that was a signature piece of equipment that was beyond priceless in this day and age.

"There is one thing you still have that is not permissible for new workers."

"I don't understand," Audrey said, not liking the direction the conversation was heading. "Ashur said that I could keep my Pip-Boy."

Lulu didn't answer her. Audrey could hear her fiddling with something behind her, but had no clue as to what it might be. All of a sudden she heard a _pop hum_ from directly above her and felt Lulu's hand sweeping her bangs back over her forehead. The small whirring machine Lulu was holding slowly approached her scalp and Audrey thought for a horrible second that it was a saw getting ready to be used on her head instead of her arm. Instead, Lulu placed the end of the machine at Audrey's hairline and slowly moved it backwards over the top of her head.

A stream of severed auburn hair rained down into Audrey's lap and her mouth went dry. Lulu was shaving her head, she realized in despair. Not able to hold back her emotions any longer, she let out a wail of anguish and started to cry. But Lulu was apparently immune to the concept of sympathy as she continued to unceremoniously shear off Audrey's tresses.

When the clippers were finally turned off, Audrey thought her ordeal might be over. As she stared in defeat at the pile of shorn hair in her lap, Lulu proved her incorrect when she began to slather a foul smelling cream all over Audrey's scalp.

"We don't have any lather, pet. But trog fat makes for an adequate substitute in cases such as this. Now hold still. Lulu doesn't want to cut you any more than she has to."

Audrey could do nothing but stare dumbly ahead of her as Lulu brutally ran a rusty straight razor through what remaining hair she had. Lulu hadn't been exaggerating when she'd mentioned the prospect of repetitive nicking. Soon, Audrey's tears were competing with trickles of her own blood for space as they ran together down her face and around her head.

Not soon enough, the shaving ended and Lulu came around front so that she could examine her handiwork. Apparently satisfied, she took hold of Audrey's chin and wiggled it back and forth to get her attention.

"Lulu does not like to see pets cry," she told Audrey sternly. "Crying pets make for weak pets. And weak pets get eaten by the Pitt. Lulu does not want to see this one get eaten."

"Go to Hell!" shouted Audrey at the top of her lungs. Now every eye in the general vicinity turned to see the commotion.

Lulu did not take kindly to this sudden rebuke. Her mouth now turned downward in a scowl, and she planted a vicious slap on Audrey's face. Audrey could feel an area the size and shape of a handprint begin to sting and swell up, this only adding to her misery. Lulu stormed behind her and started assembling more unknown objects in the background.

"What more are you going to do?" Audrey demanded. "There's nothing left to cut, you bitch!"

This comment brought a fuming Lulu back around to face her, this time with a tennis ball-sized hex nut in hand. Instead of striking Audrey with it, she forced her mouth open and wedged it inside. Audrey gagged and choked until she moved the nut with her tongue to a place in her mouth where it didn't trigger the two previous reflexes. In the meantime, Lulu had rolled a small cart over next to where Audrey sat. She undid the restraints on her right arm and slammed it down forcefully on the top of the cart. Holding the limb in place with one hand, Lulu reached over with the other to a nearby furnace and pulled a metal rod out of the fire. Audrey knew what it was the instant she saw it, but there was nothing she could do to prevent what came next.

When the white-hot iron touched the underside of her wrist, Audrey let out a stifled scream then bit down sharply on the hex nut, chipping one of her teeth in the process. The pain from the branding was of an intensity she had never before felt. Her head began to swim and her thoughts began to muddle.

Three more times Lulu branded her wrist. But Audrey didn't feel all of them. She had fainted after the second application.

* * *

><p>It was late evening now in Pittsburgh, though from the color of the sky, one would never know it. The glowing rivers and the emissions from the round-the-clock operation of the mills made nightlife in the city a time of perpetual twilight. Not that there was any fun to be had if you were a slave. Or a fugitive.<p>

When the new mob of slavers had come to investigate the train yard, Wernher had been taken by surprise and had fled the scene. How they had been tipped off that something was amiss, he didn't know, but it gave him the sense that things had not gone according to plan.

He had taken up a new position not far from the yard, in a dilapidated house overlooking the Tenth Street Bridge. It wasn't what he'd hoped for, but it would have to suffice. Having barricaded the house's front and back doors, he now sat in one of the upstairs bedrooms in front a portable ham radio transmitter.

On top of unexpectedly having to move his intended base of operations, the transmitter had been giving his nerves fits too. Not that it hadn't been working properly, it had just been uncomfortably silent all day. It was his direct line into the Pitt and there was only one person who had access to his frequency. Midea. If Audrey had made contact with her, then Midea would have reported in by now as had been their arrangement. The fact that she hadn't troubled Wernher greatly.

He rose and began to pace about the room, taking care that he literally didn't wear a hole in the decaying floor.

"Something's gone wrong," he muttered.

It could have been any number of things. Audrey could have fallen in the river, stepped on a landmine on the bridge, could've been shot by Mex for the fun of it… Then again, with the arrival of the new guards, someone might have escaped his and Audrey's assault on the train yard and reported their presence to Ashur. If that was the case then everyone involved in his operation was screwed. Wernher played these scenarios and more throughout his mind again and again. With each repetition, his apprehension only grew.

After another half hour of waiting, the radio finally crackled to life. The female voice on the other end sounded weary and carried with it an air of concern.

"I shed my chains," she said.

"For greener pastures," Wernher replied quickly, completing their prearranged security phrase. "Midea, thank God! What the hell took so long? I expected at least a confirmation call hours ago!"

"Well, I'm sorry, Wernher," Midea said testily. "I've been busy keeping my head down most of the day because of certain volatile events. Events which I'm betting you had a hand in."

"The fact that I'm back should tell you we're moving forward with the rebellion. What do you mean by "volatile events"? Nothing should have happened."

"Nothing should have happened? You stirred up a hornet's nest! I thought you were going to do this subtly!" she whispered, her tone now frosty.

"Wait, slow down, Midea," Wernher cut in, trying to get the conversation back under control. "I've brought in some help. She should have made contact with you."

"Help? You call what she did, "help"?" Midea exclaimed, trying to keep her voice at a low volume.

"What are you talking about?" asked Wernher impatiently. "Look, I'll go through it again, step by step. I found someone in the Capital Wasteland that could help us get the cure. I brought her here, told her to dress like a slave, walk up to the gates, and go inside. She should be done with the initiation by now and be making her way around Downtown. She was told to find you. Those were her instructions. Did that happen?"

"No."

"Okay…okay," Wernher said, slowly opening and closing his fists to try and dispel the wave of anger and stress that had suddenly washed over him. "Did you even see her? Do you know what she looks like? She's a young, skinny thing and has – er, _had_ – long red hair. Goes by Audrey."

"Then Nola's probably sitting with her right now," answered Midea curtly. "Though she hasn't spoken a word to us."

"Huh? Why not?"

"She's been unconscious for the past five hours. They beat the shit out of her, Wernher."

Wernher's eyes grew wide. "What? Why?" he demanded.

"You don't know?"

"No! I _don't know_!" Wernher yelled. "Why don't you–" A loud thud against the front door interrupted his tirade. Wernher's blood ran cold. "Shit, someone's outside, Midea," he said in a hushed voice. "I gotta go."

"Who's where?" whispered Midea. "Where are you?"

"No time," answered Wernher hurriedly. "Stay safe Midea, and keep her safe. She's the only card I've got left in play. I'll try and think of something. Same time tomorrow night."

"Wernher–"

But Wernher had already switched off the radio and was inching his way down the stairs. Whoever was outside hit the door again, not enough to break it down, but enough to get the attention of whoever was inside. Once he had reached the ground level, Wernher crawled across the floor until he was under the sill of one of the large bay windows. Peeking through a gap in the boards that covered the window's three sides, he got a look at the would-be intruder. He relaxed.

He stood up and pushed aside the sofa and broken china cabinet he'd earlier moved in front of the door. Then he opened the door and let the visitor inside.

The visitor was not a who, but a what. A robot to be precise. About the size of large, completely spherical watermelon, the robot floated into the living room as Wernher shut and sealed off the door. From the top and back of its frame, several antennae of various sizes stuck out at irregular angles. Its front was composed of a fixture that looked like the grill on a pre-war car, but rather than protecting a radiator, this piece sheltered the bot's loudspeaker and optical sensors. Below the grill-like faceplate, a tiny but effective zapper swiveled back and forth as the robot scanned for threats. Sensing no danger in its general vicinity, the machine turned and faced Wernher who was now sitting on the couch, his feet propped up on a dusty coffee table.

From inside the robot's faceplate, a soft blue light began to glow. It increased in power for a few seconds then focused into a beam which projected a holographic image onto the coffee table. Wernher moved his feet as the image came into focus.

"You picked a helluva time to drop by," he told the miniaturized figure standing before him.

The man projected onto the table smiled and removed his glasses to clean their mirror finish lenses. His upturned expression didn't put Wernher at ease though. He was dressed in an expensive suit and tie, a habilimental rarity after the War, his look completed by a pair of fine shoes and a fedora. He also carried with him the air of a dangerous individual who was not to be trifled with.

"Why, Wernher," he replied. "I thought that given the current state of affairs, you would be overjoyed to see a friendly face."

"I'll save my elation for when we have the cure and my people are free," Wernher grumbled. "What are you doing here?"

The man clasped his hands behind his back. "I like to keep an eye on the status of my operations. I'm sure you can relate. Tell me, Wernher, what do you think of my recommendation?"

"Well, from the conversation I was having before you interrupted, it sounds like she royally screwed the pooch."

"Oh she nearly did," the well-dressed man said with a maddening calmness. "Shall I fill you in on what your friend inside wasn't able to tell you?"

"Yes, why don't you do that," Wernher said irritably, finding it unsettling that the man knew of his activities moments before.

"By now, I'm sure you've figured out that Miss Epson was the cause of your premature departure from the train yard. Yes?"

Wernher nodded, his gaze turning stormy.

"Despite your earlier warnings, she thinned the guard population somewhat."

"She did _what_?" Wernher was livid now, his fists clenched and the veins bulging from his neck. "Damn her to Hell!" he roared. "She's ruined everything! They'll kill her for sure! Why did she do it?" he demanded.

"Why not?" asked the man. "I told you what she was like, and you saw her anti-enslavement fury firsthand. Did you really think that something like this was outside the realm of possibility for her?"

"She disobeyed me!" Wernher retorted. "I trusted her."

"And you still can."

"What do you mean?"

"In a way, this situation is fitting, don't you think? You neglected to tell her that she'd be subjected to the rigors of new slave processing. She withheld something from you too. She killed the guards because it was never her intention to go under the whip."

"I don't believe it. I have people's lives at stake here! What does she think this is, a fucking game?"

"I wouldn't be too condemning of her if I were you, Wernher," cautioned the man. "She actually had a good idea, believe it or not. You didn't know she had stealth armor, did you? She was wearing it when you two first met. Unlike the pitiable Stealth Boys with which you are familiar, this Chinese technology allows the wearer to become invisible indefinitely. Why would she go in as a slave when she can operate as a cold-blooded assassin instead? Her plan did have one tiny but critical flaw that led to her current predicament though."

"Pulse mines," Wernher finished. "I didn't think that I'd have to tell her about those. They're a nonfactor for anyone without any goddamn tech. I'm assuming your source on the inside reported all this to you?"

"That is correct. Yours too was accurate in her description of Miss Epson's current physical state."

"Son of a… Shouldn't be surprised. A severe ass kicking is the least she'd get after what she did, killing a boss and all. They'll probably be putting her head on pike soon."

"Don't be so sure of that," said the man. "Contrary to the present popular belief, the slavers did not beat her within an inch of her life. Ashur didn't let them go too far in their abuse. He has, it seems, taken a special interest in the girl."

"Ashur?" Wernher gaped in disbelief. "Why would he do that?"

"As I understand it, it has something to do with the nature of her arrival and, of all things, her Pip-Boy."

"You mean that oversized wristwatch of hers?"

"Yes, that would be the one."

Wernher leaned back on the couch and massaged his temples. "I don't get it," he said after a moment. "I don't know whether this hurts or helps us. Even if they let her live, she's going to be under heavy scrutiny because that sack of shit Ashur now has a new curiosity."

"Oh, I definitely see it as an arrow in our quiver," responded the man confidently. "If there's one thing I've learned about the dear girl, it's that you never _ever _count her out of a fight. Ashur's allowing her to live works very much in our favor. Because as long as she breathes, she can – and will – do damage. It is simply her nature."

"Right now, I'd prefer those soldiers of yours," Wernher said. "You've got a freakin' army at your disposal. Why the hell can't you just send in the troops with all that firepower I keep hearing so much about?"

"We've been over this, Wernher," his guest gently chided. "We cannot commit any further assets to this endeavor, more than we already are and will be, that is. Our operations in the South allow for us to only spare so much. And besides, didn't you tell me that an outside force would have difficulty breaching the Pitt while Ashur's defenses are at full strength?"

"Yes," Wernher admitted begrudgingly.

"Then we shall have to adhere to the original plan. It is the only way this will work. And you know it."

Wernher licked his lips uncertainly. "So, you think this thing's still a go then? You'll continue to make the preparations on your end and she'll be able to come through on hers?"

"Our support in your endeavor is unwavering. Your best interest, is our best interest," reassured the man. "As for her…" He paused, taking time to select his next words as a wine connoisseur would when choosing a bottle from his cellar. "I probably don't have to tell you this, but she is a dangerous weapon. I brought her to you because there is literally no one better than her to perform the tasks we need. Mark my words, Wernher. Though she may be lying battered and broken somewhere within that city, given enough time, Audrey Epson will bring Ashur's empire crashing to the ground."


	12. Chapter 12

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 12.**

**_Author's Note:_  
><strong>

**_To the relief of many and the disappointment of few - or is it the other way around? - I have NOT, in fact, died. Why the three month gap in posting? Well, when there's a shakeup with the job, two major cross-country trips on my itinerary, and a certain Chapter 15 that took me forEVER to piece together, progress tends to get mired in the quicksand of life. That is why I'm posting Chapters 12 and 13; it's my way of saying, sorry for the wait, here, have a couple of filler chapters to keep you interested. Seriously though, I appreciate all the support I've received thus far. You guys keep me going and I'll try and be more diligent with my submissions now that things have calmed down a touch.  
><em>**

**_- T. Fett_**

* * *

><p>When her conscious brain activity finally returned from its hiatus, the first of Audrey's senses to return was her touch. Aside from detecting that she was lying down, covered up by something soft, she could feel that her forehead was being cooled. It wasn't by a fan of any sort, but rather by a moist piece of fabric that was draped across her head. From this fabric, tiny droplets of water made tracks down her skin, passing her earlobes and coming to rest on her pillow whereupon they dampened its surface. She tentatively reached out with her fingers to better understand the soft mass resting on top of her body. Upon further tactile examination, she determined that it was a pair of blankets.<p>

Her smell was next to return, this sense telling her that the blankets which covered her carried the scent of mold and stale sweat, most of the sweat probably being her own. She took in a long deep breath through her nostrils. From this sample of air, she learned that her current location carried a musty odor to it. It was the kind of mustiness that didn't make her feel uncomfortable though. This space, wherever and whatever it was, smelled like it had been lived in and cared for too, as the stench of decay seemed to be held in check.

Her hearing reentered the picture soon after. Building off of existing data from her other two active senses, Audrey felt reasonably sure that she was no longer in that horrible industrial facility. She listened as voices made their way into her ears. From the way the sounds were reverberating off the walls, her present location was a small enclosed space. Her mind's eye brought back for her a picture of the giant bucket screeching overhead on the ceiling of the factory, almost as if to further encourage the notion that this new place was infinitely better than where she last remembered being. Aside from the voices, the current space was still and quiet.

The owners of the voices were both women, and they both sounded anxious. Gradually, she began to pick up snippets of their conversation.

"Did you see that? I think she's finally coming around."

"I hope so. I don't think the bosses would have let her stay here much longer. I overheard some of them talking about jumpstarting her with a fission battery if she didn't wake up soon."

Audrey felt the cloth on her head being taken away and replaced by the back of someone's hand. After a moment, the hand's owner seemed to release some of the tension they had been holding.

"Her fever's gone down. At least we're out of the woods there."

"That's good news. She had a rough go of it the other night."

"Don't remind me. I had to sit up with her, remember?"

Audrey started to open her eyes, but just as quickly closed them. The light which had briefly peeked through her eyelids brought searing, blinding pain. She squeezed them shut so hard that her tear ducts started to moisten. She knew she had to get her sight back though, and hesitantly opened her eyes again. She blinked repeatedly and her vision eventually returned, the initial brightness fading down to reveal dim light playing across a pale and chipped ceiling. She took note of a shadowy figure hovering at the extreme right of her field of view. She turned her head to look at this figure, wincing as the stiff muscles of her neck protested the motion. It took a great deal of concentration, but she was finally able to make her eyes focus on the person. Her brain was still very cloudy and not all of the signals she was sending were getting processed.

The figure was one of the women she'd heard talking, Audrey reasoned. The contours of her face reflected years of hard living, but her complexion was cleaner than that of the other slaves she'd briefly seen. Her short, greying hair was tucked underneath a head shawl. Her eyes stood in stark contrast to the rest of her features. Though they were a dull green and looked to be the hooks on which a great deal of personal baggage hung, there was a spark to them that spoke of the fighting spirit contained within their owner. Those same eyes now stared at Audrey with a maternal compassion.

"Where am I?" Audrey asked, her voice raspy and her mouth having a cottony feel to it. It seemed to her that she hadn't exercised her vocal cords in a while.

"Shhh, honey, shhh," the woman whispered as she dried Audrey's eyes. "It's alright, you're safe now. Nola, bring me some water please," she said, as another woman, presumably Nola, came into view. She had heavy scarring on her face and body, characteristic of severe radiation exposure or burns. Nola disappeared for a moment, and then returned with a soda bottle filled with cloudy water.

"I'm going to prop you up a little bit, okay?" said the first woman. "Then I need you to drink this."

Audrey felt the woman's arm slide between her back and the mattress and gently ease her up slightly. She did her best to comply so that the woman didn't have to push her full limp weight, though the movement let her know how battered she was. She tried to think of how she'd come to be this way, but the event simply wasn't in her memory. Now that her head was raised a little bit, she could see that she was resting in a bed in a tiny rundown room, which, from the looks of the layout, had once been part of an office. The wall on the opposite end of where she lay was caved in but the rest of the structure appeared to be architecturally sound. With her other hand, the woman took the bottle from Nola and held it up to Audrey's lips. As she did this, Audrey heard a ticking noise coming from a spot next to her in the bed. When she looked down to see what it was, she was startled to find that it was her Pip-Boy. She still had it! She'd forgotten they hadn't taken that from her. But why?

"M…Pip-Bo…rads," she mumbled, the words not entirely forming as they should.

"Relax, Audrey," the woman soothed. "Just focus on drinking this. I know it's not clean, but it's the most purified form of river water we have."

Audrey nodded and let the woman pour the water into her mouth. It tasted sour, but it washed away the dryness in her throat. After a few healthy swallows, she tried to speak again.

"Who…who are you?" she asked.

The woman smiled. "I'm Midea. And this is Nola," she said, indicating her friend. "She helped patch you up."

"Patch me up?" Once again, Audrey's voice was her own. She hauled her aching frame to where she was fully sitting up. "I just remember being smacked in the head a few times."

"The bosses…they um, they took certain liberties with you after you were processed," said Nola, coming forward to sit at the foot of Audrey's bed. "You were unconscious at the time, and they decided they could get away with giving you a beat-in. Wait, what are you doing?"

Audrey had started to pull back the blankets to peer down at herself. Her breathing had become rapid. "No, no, no, no, no," she stammered. "You said they took liberties? They didn't…they didn't…"

"No," answered Midea firmly. She squeezed Audrey's shaking hands and pulled the blankets back over her. "No they didn't. Ashur didn't let them. He had the dogs shot before they could go that far. He was furious about it."

"Ashur?" Audrey asked perplexedly after a couple of deep breaths. She felt as though she'd had prior knowledge about this, but her muddled brain couldn't remember Ashur's words to Reddup before. "He saved me? Why?"

"He thinks you're special," said Midea. "The kind of gear you came in here with makes you an unusual find for him. In short, he likes you."

"He likes me? Why on earth would he like me? I killed close to ten of his men."

"Yes you did. And you and I are going to talk about that here in a minute." Midea turned to Nola. "I think I can handle her from here, Nola. Go ahead and return to your shift before they notice you've been gone too long."

At the word "shift", Nola's face fell slightly, but her disheartenment vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. "Okay," she said. "Let me know me know if you need anything else, Midea. And it was nice to officially meet you, Audrey."

"Likewise," Audrey replied. "And thank you for…helping me. I must have been in pretty rough shape before, judging by how lousy I feel right now."

"That's the understatement of the century," muttered Midea.

Nola briefly cut her eyes at Midea then smiled warmly at Audrey. "You're welcome, honey. Just stay alive from now on." She then walked out the door.

When the door had shut behind Nola, Midea moved her chair to where she could now sit directly facing Audrey.

"You're the one Wernher told me to find once I got inside," exclaimed Audrey. She averted her eyes when Midea returned an impassive stare. "I…I'd hoped to be meeting you under better circumstances."

"And I, you."

"I see that you two know my name. I had no idea my reputation preceded me this much."

"I don't know what you're talking about. We know who you are because of Wernher. He's been able to fill us in some things; namely you."

"I'm gathering that he's able to communicate with you somehow?" Audrey ventured. "I don't suppose you'd know how he's doing, would you?"

"I do actually," Midea answered briskly. "He's fine, in spite of you."

"I get the sense that you're upset with me…right?"

Midea looked peevishly at her for a moment before saying, "I was upset with you on day one. Now, I've downgraded that to annoyed."

"I don't understand–"

"Please let me finish," Midea said sternly, shutting her down. "I've been needing to get this off my chest for two days, ever since your fellow laborers dragged your unconscious form up to my doorstep, expecting me to work a miracle." She closed her eyes then ran her tongue across the bottoms of her upper teeth, the gestures a clear preparation for a verbal salvo. Audrey braced herself for such. "I know that the plans that Wernher and I have laid out don't appeal to someone like you. I mean, why go to all the trouble to help if you're going to lose so much in the end? I wouldn't do it either if it meant leaving my life behind and being forced to work in horrible conditions. But what I can't figure out is, what on earth possessed you to add to your ordeal? If you'd dressed as a slave in the first place, the most you'd have gotten was the haircut and the brand."

At this remark, Audrey ran a hand across her bald head, her fingers touching the five o'clock shadow and the scabbed-over nicks from Lulu's razor. Her eyes then traveled down to her wrist. The swollen red lines in her skin were an undeniable message: she was now nothing more than a number, a digit in the meat grinder of the Pitt. Stenciled into her wrist were the numbers 0, 7, 2, and 9. The trauma of the experience came charging back to the forefront of her mind, and she felt herself start to tear up again.

This didn't escape Midea's notice. "Oh stop it!" she scolded. "You think you're the only one who's had to go through that?" She rolled up her sleeve to show Audrey her own numerical brand. "I'm sorry that Wernher didn't prepare you for that, but that's irrelevant now. I don't care how badly the bosses treated you; the only one you have to blame for your current condition is you. Wernher told you to leave your gear behind, that it would be taken from you if you didn't. And yet you brought it in anyway. Not only that, you used it to kill the guards! Did you think they'd just let you waltz in here and shoot up the place?"

"I screwed up, okay?" Audrey retorted angrily. "I'm sorry that I tried to use my stealth suit to slip in and grab the cure and kill your bosses, with no one being the wiser. I fight from the shadows all the time, Midea, and I had no reason to think that I couldn't do the same thing here."

"Well, it didn't work, did it?" Midea said bluntly. "On any other day, I'd applaud you for putting a bullet in a boss. I have no doubt Mex, Raven, and the others deserved exactly what they got. But what you did by following your own agenda nearly cost us everything. Understand this: our entire operation hinges on you doing exactly what we tell you to do. I appreciate you wanting to come here and help, but now that you're here, you work for us. Now start acting like it, or you'll be killed and this whole ship will sink."

Audrey nodded, but she looked at her feet when she did. It wasn't that they were interesting to look at; she just couldn't meet Midea's eyes right then. The woman was right. No matter how well she had designed her covert plan of attack, the fact of the matter was that it had failed and because of that failure, she'd put everybody in danger. Audrey had never been very good at taking failure at face value. Always striving to perform beyond the best of her abilities, she never accepted anything less than victory from herself. When she didn't achieve said victory, she took it as a personal blow and internalized it. This current state of affairs warranted no exception. When she didn't say anything for a few moments, Midea reached out and took her hand.

"Hey, look at me," she said, and Audrey complied. "In spite of all this crap, I'm _really_ glad you're here. Thank you so much for listening to Wernher and agreeing to help us."

"You're welcome," Audrey replied, finally finding a reason to crack a hint of a smile.

"I know things look pretty bad to you right now, but I'm telling you that if we work together from here on out, we will get through this. And you _will_ be the key to our freedom."

Audrey looked up at Midea in partial surprise. "Are you saying we still have a chance to pull this off? I've been out of it, I…I really don't know where we stand right now."

"Haven't given much thought to the slave version of events, have you?" Midea asked rhetorically. Audrey shook her head. "Don't worry," she reassured. "Somehow, despite your publicity stunt, you've set us up better than expected for two reasons. One: the bosses feel like they've captured you and have…enslaved you legitimately. In a way, your assault on the gate guards and subsequent capture seems more plausible than someone just wandering in off the street, as we had originally intended. Two: Ashur has taken notice of you. This means that he is apparently interested in your survival for whatever reason, and will more than likely want to meet you in person at some point. You get to Ashur, you get to the cure."

"How do I get an audience with Ashur?" Audrey asked.

Midea shook her head. "That's just it, you don't. You don't request to see him, he requests to see you. And by request, I mean that you answer his summons or find yourself being lowered feet-first into a vat of molten steel."

Audrey shuddered. "Okay, since I'm assuming we have no way of knowing when or even if he'll ask for me, what are we supposed to be doing in the meantime?"

"Simple, we work and keep our heads down until the right moment."

Audrey let out a resigned sigh. _This is _so _not going how I planned it. _Ignoring the dull pain, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. The motion gave her a mild case of vertigo but it quickly subsided. When the blankets slipped down from her body, she gasped. She was no longer nude, but what she was wearing wasn't much of an improvement. Dark stained wraps of fabric covered up the important parts of her anatomy, but the rest of her body was completely bare. The portion of fabric shrouding her bosom was held in place by a crude arrangement of leather straps and metal rings. Around the straps, mottled blotches of healing bruises were visible. The amount of bruising made her wonder how she was not feeling any broken ribs or bones.

"Midea," she said haltingly. "What...the heck…am I wearing?"

Midea's eyes warmed with empathy. "I'm sorry, Audrey. What they make the general population wear is beyond appalling. It's not even safe clothing to have on while working in the mill, let alone the more savage areas of the ruins."

"Why don't you have clothes like this?" Audrey asked, noticing Midea's rather plain attire in comparison to her own. "Your outfit's more typical of the rags I see people in all the time back home."

"I'm the resident matriarch of the slaves, and I guess I've earned certain "privileges"," Midea answered sourly. "One of those privileges is an upgraded wardrobe…of sorts. Nice, huh? They say that I'll get a sundress next week," she sarcastically added.

Audrey laughed wryly. "If my good friend from back home saw me in this, he would be so angry that he'd be spitting kittens."

"I take it he has a lot of say in your clothing choices?"

"No, he just knows that I wouldn't be caught dead in something like this. So naturally, he'd be inclined to find whoever forced me into this getup and hurt them severely."

"Oh," Midea replied uncertainly. "I guess Nola and I will need to go into hiding then, considering that we were the ones who dressed you."

"You did? How did you get me into these…things?"

"You saw how out of it you were. It isn't hard to dress a person when they put up about as much resistance as a dead fish."

"Point taken," Audrey conceded. "You mentioned work. What sort am I to be doing?"

This question caused Midea to shift uncomfortably. "About that…it's um…"

"I'm not going to like what I'm about to hear, am I?"

"No, no you're not. Just remember, you did bring this upon yourself. You know how some of the bosses gave you a beat-in for killing their own? Well, the rest didn't think that was enough, so you've been assigned to the Yard, for ingot duty."

"While that doesn't sound too bad to me, I'm willing to bet you're getting ready to give details about this job that are just going make my day," said Audrey, as she rose unsteadily from the bed.

"Careful now," cautioned Midea as she guided Audrey to her feet. "You haven't been mobile in a couple of days you know. And yes, you could say that about the details," she admitted.

Audrey politely waved her off and proceeded to take baby steps across Midea's quarters on her own. Her strides were wobbly at first, but the more practice she got on her legs, the more the normal feeling returned. When she felt comfortable enough that she could work the rest of herself without falling over, she gave her body a much needed stretch. Though bones and stiff joints popped and creaked in protest, the gesture had sufficiently rid her any internal rust.

"This assignment," Midea said after a few moments of watching her, "to put it bluntly, is nothing short of suicide. This is the type of job the bosses make the foreman post whenever they're bored or angry with someone. In your case, it's the latter. The bastards make us pick who's going to do it, and we've been ordered to pick you for this latest run."

"Okay, but you still haven't said what makes the task so dangerous," Audrey pointed out.

"I'm getting to that," Midea answered impatiently. "In a nutshell, you're going to be collecting a certain number of steel ingots that are lying around out in the steelyard, the Yard to most of us here. While that doesn't sound terrible on the surface, it's what's going to be out there with you that makes this so infamous."

"More Wildmen?"

"They're out there, but they aren't your main concern. You need to worry about the trogs."

"You mean, the people who Wernher described as worse than dead?"

"Yes," Midea said grimly. "Hear me on this, Audrey." Audrey picked up on the suddenly urgent tone of her voice and stopped moving about to give Midea her full attention. "They're worse than any description can provide. After they turn, they develop fangs, their limbs adapt to favor springing and scrambling, and they get much, much stronger than before. They've become the Pitt's top predators, claiming more lives from our populace than the sickness these days. The Yard's become one of their prime breeding grounds due to the bosses tossing anyone who's turning out there. They're numerous and they're always hunting."

Audrey swallowed hard. "So, what am I'm supposed to do, just beat them to death with my bare hands?" As soon as she said this, she mentally smacked herself in the head. _I am definitely not firing on all cylinders here, not if I'm just now remembering I have the–_ She reached between her breasts to pull out the .32 pistol Wernher had given her. Only it wasn't there. She sighed inwardly. Of course it had been taken too. Why wouldn't it have been? When the slavers had stripped her naked, they would've had to have been utterly daft to miss the pistol grip tucked into her cleavage. Back to square one, again. "Look, is there anywhere to get weapons? You make it sound like I'm going to get shredded out there otherwise."

Midea was about to reply when the door to her home was thrown open, and in strode a surly looking man wearing armor that looked like it had come from a myriad of scrap parts. His hair was a dirty blonde and was matched by a thick beard. He threateningly brandished a sparking cattle prod. Midea turned towards him and placed herself between him and Audrey. _She _is_ a natural matriarch,_ Audrey noted. _She barely knows me and yet she instinctively positioned herself to where this man can't get to me easily._ In that moment, her respect for Midea increased ten-fold. She decided that, at the very least, she would try and win this fight for her.

"What's going on in here, Midea? Nola told me the new scab was awake, so why ain't she working yet?"

"Nothing, sir. Nothing at all," Midea stuttered. "I was just filling this new worker in on her first job. She was still pretty weak so I had to help her out of bed."

"Is that so?" said the intruder. "Well, I hope she's regained enough of her strength. She'll need it to outrun the Yard's local wildlife."

"She has, sir," Midea replied. "I explained to her what she needs to do. Get the required number of ingots, and get back as _fast_ as she can." She emphasized this last sentence so that Audrey could pick up on it.

The man sneered. "That's good, Midea. Real good. "I hope you also said your goodbyes, 'cuz I don't think this one's coming back. Now get to work, both of you." He turned to go. At the door, he paused and looked back at Audrey. "Kind of a shame too, you dying and all. I mean, you are one of the hottest pieces of meat we've had in here in a while. Can't believe the trogs will get a piece of your action before I will." With that parting shot fired, he left, slamming the door on his way out.

Audrey looked over at Midea who appeared visibly shaken. "Well, I see that along with most everything else here, chivalry is certainly dead," she quipped.

"Midea chuckled. "You mean Jackson? That was him being nice. Usually he's more…hands-on."

"Jackson, is that his name?"

Midea nodded.

"Good to know. I'll add him to my list."

"List? You have a list?"

"Yes," Audrey replied. "And that list is not a good place for a person's name to be. If I'm having a really good day, they don't stay on there very long."

"Whatever," Midea said wearily. "As far as weapons go, I can't help you there. But I know someone who can. He's a slave named Marco and he works in the mill. You have to pass through there anyway on your way to the Yard. Find him and see what he can give you."

"Why did Nola spread the word about me waking up?" asked Audrey. When Jackson had said he'd gotten his information from Nola, it had unsettled her.

"I know what you're thinking," said Midea quickly, "but she didn't do it willingly. Jackson probably cornered her and made her tell. Nola's a solid girl and a good person to have at your side, but she isn't immune to threats." Her features switched to an anxious expression. "Now go, hurry. If you're late, well…you don't want to know what happens if you're late."

"Wait, go to work as in right now?" Audrey exclaimed, her emotions bordering on flabbergasted. "I just woke up from a two-day coma and now you're telling me to go fight for my survival right out of the gate?"

Midea's eyes darkened. "Life in the Pitt's never fair or just. If I could have given you more time to recuperate, believe me, you'd have gotten it. Since they're telling you to work, you have to work, end of story. In the Pitt, if you don't toe the line, you suffer for it. Now go!" she insisted, pushing Audrey out the door.

As Midea's door shut and locked behind her, Audrey now found herself standing in a street filled with downtrodden and defeated-looking human beings, every one of them wearing the same shameful outfit as her.

_Great, just great,_ she thought as she looked around at this human colony of misery. _I am completely and totally screwed._


	13. Chapter 13

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 13.**

The rough pavement felt foreign and abrasive to the bare soles of Audrey's feet, as she walked out into the small plaza off of which Midea's house sat. What had once been a small back alley collection of shops now looked to be the main social gathering area for the slaves. Above, long wooden bridges linked the upper levels of the surrounding buildings, creating an extensive network of pipes and cabling that clearly cordoned off the higher floors for slaver use only. Its inhabitants prowled the walkways, looking down every now and then to make sure their charges weren't acting up, or God forbid, taking a much needed rest from a day filled with overwork.

Audrey checked the clock on her Pip-Boy; 10:42 in the morning; early enough to get in a full day of hard labor. _Hooray_, she thought dryly.

Around her, the slaves went about their business, always keeping their heads down whenever they approached one of the guards on the ground. They looked sick, every one of them, some with peeling skin, others with massive oozing sores all over their bodies. With most of them in such a state of physical distress, Audrey wondered how the slavers expected them to get anything done. They were covered in soot and other assorted layers of filth, making her glad that her nose had acclimated to the decided lack of hygiene.

To her right, a pair of rail-thin slaves struggled to drag massive engine block down a narrow alley. They were both staggering under the block's immense weight but they kept going as though their lives depended on it; which in the Pitt, they probably did. Audrey's heart went out to them and she hurried over to help. She'd nearly reached them when a man stepped out from a recess in the alley wall, blocking her path. He had his assault rifle out, but not aimed at her. One of the bosses.

"Where are _you_ going?" he growled, his face hidden by a goalie's helmet.

"Those two needed help," Audrey said, pointing down the alley to where the slaves were now rounding the corner. "That engine's too big to be carried that way. They could use another body on it."

"They could use another body, _what_?" the slaver shot back, raising a meaty hand as if to strike her. Audrey hesitated for a few seconds before she figured out what he was looking for.

"They could use another body, _sir_," she replied, reluctantly correcting herself. The formal address tasted worse than bile as it left her mouth.

"That's more like it," the slaver said triumphantly. "What's your designation, scab?" When Audrey didn't answer immediately, he grabbed her right arm and looked at her wrist. "Ah, you must be new here, else you'd have told me straight up. Let me give you some free advice, new blood. You no longer have a name around here, just your number, which in your case is seven twenty-nine. So, whenever someone asks for your designation again, you sound off with Seven Twenty-nine, got me?"

"Yes, sir."

"What is your designation, scab?" the slaver bellowed again.

"Seven Twenty-nine, sir!" Audrey answered stiffly. "May I go help them now, sir?" she asked, even though the men with the engine block were now out of sight.

"No, you may not," the slaver stated firmly. "That is their assigned work detail. You are not on their work detail. I know this, because I'm in charge of it. Where are you supposed to be anyway, Seven Twenty-nine?"

"The steelyard, sir," Audrey replied uncertainly. She had a bad feeling she was about to be hit again.

The hit never came. Instead, the slaver in front of her paused thoughtfully. After a moment he said, "Then you're going the wrong way. The path to the Yard is back there," he added, pointing back the way Audrey had come. "Just follow the signs."

"Thanks, sir," Audrey said, turning to leave. She'd started walking away when the slaver's voice stopped her.

"There's something to be said for your fighting style, Twenty-nine," he called after her. "Not everyone could have killed their way into the Pitt completely unscathed. Ashur could use someone like you, you know."

"I'm just a slave, here to work, sir."

"Good. It's good that you know your place, scab," the slaver said while nodding approvingly. "You just make sure to survive the Yard and whatever comes after. If you do, I guarantee you there'll be a place for you in Ashur's kingdom. Our Lord knows talent when he sees it."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, sir."

"Don't thank me yet, Twenty-nine," the slaver warned. "Remember, as far as you're concerned now, I'm still the guy with the whip. Now get moving."

Audrey nodded and walked away, more quickly this time. She returned to the plaza and started back toward the other opening of the alley on the plaza's opposite side. To her left, she noticed for the first time a platform on which sat three sets of wooden stocks. In the middle set, a slave knelt motionless, his head and arms dangling from the stocks' three holes. Beside him, a slaver stood guard to ensure none of the prisoner's comrades got any bright ideas of setting him free. Audrey could hear the slave's plaintive moans, but felt powerless to ease his torment. She looked guiltily away and continued walking.

As she reached the other opening of the alley, a smell wafted out of the building next to her. It was the smell of cooking meat, and it suddenly reminded Audrey of how hungry she was. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten, probably not since breakfast at Station Four. There was no telling what the meat was, but she might as well fill her empty stomach before heading out to work. She stepped lightly over a mound of refuse and poked her head into the building.

Inside, a woman wearing a welder's mask was busy flash-cooking a piece of meat with a blow torch. Once she was finished, she sliced off an unsatisfactory piece with her knife and tossed the finished product into a nearby pot of water. She looked up when she saw Audrey and slid back her mask to reveal a badly scarred face framed by long, scraggly black hair. Audrey couldn't tell for certain, but it looked as though the woman was blind in her right eye, so milky white was the organ.

"Don't tell me you actually want this stuff," she said dubiously, indicating the pot full of cooked meat.

"Am I not allowed to have it, ma'am?" Audrey asked, fearful that she'd accidentally walked into a slaver mess hall.

The woman squinted at her. "Don't "ma'am" me. I'm Kai, not one of the bosses," she said sternly. "You have to be fresh off the cart, otherwise you'd know to avoid this crap unless you were beyond desperate. Even then, beyond desperate may be a little too soon for this."

Audrey walked up to the Kai's sheet metal counter, her hunger getting the better of her nerves. "I thought the bosses didn't like us to use our names," she said.

Kai scoffed. "Screw what those stuck up pricks say. As long as you're among friends – us," she clarified, gesturing to the slaves milling about, "your given name is just fine. And you are?" She wiped her hand on her raggedy loincloth before offering it to Audrey. Audrey took it, trying to hide a disgusted grimace that was threatening to surface.

"Audrey, Audrey Epson."

"Well, Audrey Epson, welcome to the shittiest little diner this side of the Allegheny. Now, what can I do for you on this not-so-fine day?"

"I was hoping to grab a quick bite before I go to work," Audrey replied, looking over at the watery meat.

"You sure about that? You don't even know what this is," Kai cautioned.

"I'm that level of hungry. Please–"

"It's trog meat basted in river water," Kai flatly interjected.

Whatever appetite Audrey had suddenly vanished. It was then she saw the skinned leg sticking out of a wooden crate behind where Kai was standing. "Is that… Is that a…" she couldn't seem to form the words.

"A human leg?" Kai finished, following Audrey's eyes. "It was when its former owner was still considered human. After he turned trog…well, we stop caring after that. This stuff is all the bosses allow us for food. Is it any wonder we're sick? You die when you starve, you die when you eat. What can you do?" Kai shrugged, her demeanor uncharacteristically laid back.

Audrey shook her head. "On second thought, I think I'll pass."

Kai flashed her a smile of rotten teeth. "Smart move. Come back to me when you're so hungry you can't think straight. The slop seems to go down easier when you're not in your right mind."

"I'll do that," Audrey said as she left, though she had no intention of doing so. She resolved that she'd sooner eat glass.

As she exited Kai's diner, Audrey took notice of the spray painted sign pointing down the alley that said: "The Mill". She gathered that was how the locals here indicated their directions. She saw another one on Midea's side of the plaza that pointed the way to a place called Uptown. But this wasn't a time for sightseeing. She'd dallied enough and now she had to get to work before her life became even more unpleasant. She'd just turned down the alley toward the mill when she was nearly bowled over by a woman who appeared to be deeply lost in her thoughts.

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed as she collected herself. "I'm sorry, please excuse–" She paused in midsentence and stared at Audrey, her eyes lighting up. "It's you!"

Audrey looked at her skeptically. "Yeah…I get that a lot. What am I being recognized for exactly?"

"You're the one who's going out to the steelyard, yes?" asked the woman.

"Yes, why do you ask? And, who are you?"

"Sorry," the woman replied nervously. "I'm Five Sixt–, er, Milly. I get used saying my number," she added, running her hand through her bright pink mohawk, the hairstyle that seemed to be trendy with women from the Pitt. "I'm looking for my friend, Wild Bill."

"Okay…and who is Wild Bill?" Audrey asked, trying not to sound impatient. She was worried that a slaver would come and crack their heads any minute now.

"Like I told you, Bill is a very dear friend of mine. He and I have worked in the mill together for a long time. A week ago, the bosses put out an order for ingots to be gathered from the Yard. Bill volunteered. He didn't want any one of us to have to die out there. But…he hasn't come back yet, and I'm really worried." Milly's eyes started to tear up as she explained this.

"From what I've heard, Yard duty is a hazardous job," Audrey said frankly. "Did Bill know the risks?"

"Of _course _he knew the risks," Milly snapped. "But I know him, he's a survivor." she insisted. "He can't be dead."

Audrey looked at the pleading in Milly's pale blue eyes. She couldn't bring herself to kick the woman's hopes to the curb, no matter how unlikely it was that Wild Bill was actually still alive. "Are you asking me to look for him, Milly?"

"Would you?" Milly blurted. "Oh please, please, you look like you can handle yourself. Could you find him and bring him back?"

Audrey sighed inwardly. _Once the savior, always the savior_, she thought, morosely. "I'll do my best. I can't promise anything more than that."

Milly wrapped her arms around Audrey in a relieved hug. "Thank you _so_ much," she whispered. "Please…be careful out there. Bill couldn't live with himself if he knew that someone got hurt trying to find him."

"Okay, but I have to get going now. The bosses are going to be upset if I'm any later," Audrey said, hurrying past Milly down the alley.

"Oh, okay," Milly said after her. "Good luck, stay safe!"

Audrey turned and gave Milly a quick thumbs up as she jogged out of sight.

Audrey's route to the mill took her back through the main courtyard of the Pitt, the same place where her stealthy incursion had met its premature demise. In the center of the courtyard, slaves toiled away in a wide, shallow hole that had been dug into the former intersection. While their masters looked on unemotionally, the slaves used steel saws to cut large pipes or cars into smaller pieces. Audrey watched them as she made her way under a long scaffold. Not one of the workers made a sound, not even so much as a grunt. They had clearly been indoctrinated to be quiet while they toiled.

On the far side of the work zone, she saw Nova working underneath a car that was held off the ground by a pair of steel girders that had been driven into the earth. She was using her saw to slice the engine out from the underside of the car. Audrey heard a faint groan and saw Nova dart out of the way just in time to avoid the nearly half ton chunk of rusty engine as is broke free of its supports and smashed into the ground.

"Got trog reflexes, scab," one of the overseeing slavers called out to her. "Now hurry up and strip that thing then get it over to the mill." Nova nodded, making sure not to let her eyes meet those of the slaver. After wiping the sweat from her forehead, she proceeded to saw off one of the engine's exhaust manifolds.

Continuing past the work zone, Audrey left the courtyard behind and proceeded around the corner until she found herself standing in front of a massive redbrick building. It spanned at least the length of a football field and its architecture suggested the presence of a lofty ceiling within. From the building's roof, three towering smokestacks jutted up into the yellow sky. Two of the stacks were belching out thick dark plumes of industrial exhaust while the third remained dormant, presumably not in working condition. Audrey found herself amazed that the smokestacks had not toppled over when the bombs had fallen and wondered if this structure were made of stronger materials than its surrounding counterparts. Although the building was marked by a painted sign next to its only accessible door, Audrey knew this to be the mill.

Audrey walked down the sidewalk until she reached the door. Before entering, she stole a glance back over her shoulder at the slave removing the sliding doors from remains of a bus parked across the street. His presence there wouldn't have made a difference to her except for the fact that he was whistling a cheery tune while he worked. When he saw Audrey looking at him, he gave her a friendly wave and then returned to his duties. Audrey waved back, feeling awkward as she did. Did this slave actually enjoy his work in the Pitt? She shook her head. _To each their own_, she thought. Leaving the slave to his enjoyable little world, she opened the door and entered the mill.

The inside of the mill was swelteringly hot. Hot and noisy. Sounds of heavy equipment and machinery filled Audrey's ears and she had to turn away to avoid the bright glare from the virgin steel on the hot forging presses. She looked up to see a familiar giant bucket traveling above the factory floor, this time swinging almost precariously as it moved. Audrey made a mental note to tell Marco about this whenever she found him as a falling bucket could endanger anyone on the ground underneath it. The bucket also reminded her of something else though. She'd seen it or another one like it whenever she'd enduring the rigors of processing. That meant that Lulu might be here as well, and she didn't relish the thought of running into that woman again.

Audrey walked down onto the factory floor. She had no idea where or even who Marco was, but if he was the one who could outfit her with something other than her fists, she had to find him before she reported to the Yard. She looked around for someone to ask about his whereabouts, but most of the mill workers seemed too engrossed in their jobs to be of help to her. As she passed by a cavernous pit in the floor covered up by a dome made of chain-link fence pieces, she spied one slave near the control console platform of one of the presses. He wasn't doing work of any sort and actually looked relaxed, something that definitely seemed out of character in this place. Figuring she wasn't going to garner much in the way of a response from any of the other workers, Audrey decided this man might be the easiest way to find Marco. She glanced around before approaching him, checking to make sure none of the guards were looking their way.

"Excuse me," Audrey said, resting her elbows on the handrail of the platform and staring up at the man. "I'm looking for Marco. Have you seen him?"

The slave's face broke into a smile. "Well hello there, sugar," he said, brightly. "What can ol' Brand do for you?"

_Great_, Audrey mentally grumbled. _Now I can add Sugar to Scab, Hero, and every other ridiculous nickname I've been given since I signed up for this. _"Like I said, I need to see Marco. Any idea where to find him?"

Brand regarded her curiously. "Ah, Marco. Yeah I know him. He's over in the main control room," he replied, nodding to an area deeper into the mill. He then lowered his voice and seemed to speak to himself. "Wonder what he's up to…" Then, turning his full attention back to Audrey, "I'll…I'll go let him know that you're on your way."

"No, no thank you, that won't be necessary," Audrey said quickly. There was something about this Brand that she didn't feel right about. Her internal red flags were raised and blowing vigorously in the wind. "I can find him from here."

"Oh, okay," said Brand, a hint of disappointment in his voice. Audrey chose this moment to try and slip away politely, but he caught her with another question. "Hey, uh, where you from anyway? Erie Stretch, Ronto? The big C.W. down South. Where's home for ya'?"

Another red flag was hoisted in Audrey's head. "What's it to you?" she asked guardedly.

"Nothing, just asking, you know. Making conversation." This earned Brand an arched eyebrow from Audrey. "So , uh…whatcha need to see Marco for?"

_Well, aren't you a nosy little bastard_. Brand had narc written all over him, Audrey was convinced of that now. But how to get away? If she didn't answer and left, Brand would undoubtedly tell a boss about it. If she said that she was going to see Marco for weapons, Brand would still squeal and she would have effectively bounced an ally of Midea's.

"_Brand!_ The hell you doin'?"

Audrey's and Brand's heads snapped up. An armed slaver on one of the gangways overhead had spotted them and was motioning to them unhappily.

Brand's face was now ashen. "I…uh…I was just–"

"You were running your mouth, again," the slaver interjected. "How many times do I have to tell you? Just because you're on break, doesn't mean that everyone else is."

"I know, sir," Brand stuttered. He pointed to Audrey. "But you see, she came up to me and was like–"

The slaver cut him off brusquely again. "I don't care why she came up to you! All I care about is that she's been trying to leave and you've been stopping her." Abruptly he unslung his gun and fired one shot into the ground next to Brand's foot. "Break's over," he spat.

Audrey flinched, willing herself not to move while Brand all but scurried away. The shot had been a warning not directed at her, but stray gunfire of any sort made her jumpy – especially when she was downrange of it. She allowed her eyes to wander nervously, and couldn't help noticing the beat-down apathy of the other slaves. Not one of them had so much as twitched when the gun had gone off. Years of oppression had indoctrinated them to work under any condition. _They're much better suited to this than I_, she thought. _God, help these people. For that matter, help me._

The slaver now turned his attention to Audrey. "You, scab," he said, indicating her with the smoking barrel of his rifle. "You have someplace you should be?"

"I do, sir."

"Then get there."

"Yes, sir."

As she walked away, Audrey could feel Brand's eyes at her back. She didn't turn around and meet them, though. It mattered little what parting thoughts she'd left him with. All that mattered right now was finding Marco, grabbing a weapon, and getting Yard duty over with. Actually, that was a lie. What mattered was getting home again. Back to the Capital Wasteland; back in Megaton, buried within the sheets of her own bed. With Dogmeat curled up at her feet, Wadsworth fussing about the house, and Fawkes downstairs reading a book. She wanted to be with her family. But she couldn't have her family again unless she continued down the road she was currently on. And the cold, hard truth was that this road led through the Pitt.


	14. Chapter 14

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 14.**

Audrey mopped the sweat from her brow as she moved through the mill's oppressive heat toward the control room. Everywhere she looked, rail-thin human beings worked tirelessly at presses, scrap piles, and furnaces. Slavers watched from overhead like hungry vultures, waiting to swoop down should anyone get out of line. She walked up a set of stairs into the mill's central control room and found a man standing with his back to her. He was hunched over a table, surrounded by several steel saws in various states of disassembly. He looked up from the one he was working on when she approached.

"Can I help you?" he said, guardedly.

"I'm here to see Marco," said Audrey. "I was told I could find him here." She watched as the man sized her up.

"Depends," he said after a moment, taking a few steps towards her. "Who wants to know?"

"I do."

"And why is that?"

"I'm on Yard duty. Midea sent me."

The man smiled knowingly at her. "Then I'm Marco. Let's step into my office."

Audrey followed him around a gigantic island of computers and control consoles to where his work area was set up. "So, you're the guy who maintains all the saws?"

"Yes ma'am, that I am," Marco replied, grinning at his little rhyme. "And I'll be hooking you up with one of my best blades here shortly. But first, you've got to get some footwear. Your feet'll be raw hamburger if you go shoeless in the Yard for too long."

"Well, they didn't exactly see fit to provide me with such," Audrey muttered, glancing down at her dirty bare feet. "Where would I go to get shoes in this place, exactly?"

"Right here. You're in luck today, girl, as I've got a spare of set of boots under the table."

Audrey accepted the ratty pair of boots he produced from underneath his work area. Their brown leather was faded and cracked from a century or two too many of hard use. They contained no laces, instead being tightened by pieces of bailing wire strung through the grommets.

"It's you who's got the guards up in arms, isn't it?" Marco asked, turning back to his work on the saws.

Audrey glanced at him as she cinched up the wire on the boots. "You think I'm that specter chick who got fried on the pulse mines? Nah, I only saw what happened, but don't know anything more than that. Odds are she's probably dead."

Marco chuckled. "I'd say the odds are better that she's actually sitting right here, putting on the boots that I was told to procure for her. Oh, don't look so surprised," he said upon seeing the bemused expression on Audrey's face. "I'm Midea's second in command, as it were. She brought me up to speed after we sorted out the mess from the other day. And if I may say so, you put on quite the display. Nice work!"

"Thanks…I think…"

"Take it as a compliment, Audrey – and yes I know your name; Midea and I talk. She might get bent out of shape about bosses dying before we want them to, but me, I don't mind it so much. I spend my days maintaining the 'tools' that will eventually be used to kill those guys anyway, so it's nice to see some of my vengeful dreams acted out for a change, you know?"

"I'm happy that I kept you entertained. You can see how much good my smoke and mirrors routine did me though," Audrey said dryly.

"Merely a minor setback," Marco replied, ever the optimist. "Oh, and by the way, I think this is yours." He tossed her a familiar .32 pistol. It was her holdout gun.

Audrey caught it and looked at it in disbelief. "Where did you get this?" she gasped. She quickly double-checked to see if it was still loaded and was relieved to discover that it hadn't been tampered with. "How–"

"I'm a slave who knows how to get things," Marco said cryptically. "Unfortunately, we couldn't spring for the rest of your gear. Ashur's got that locked up tight. But a gun that small is not worth confiscation by the higher-ups. So one of the grunt bosses happened to get it. Then…when he wasn't looking…I happened to get it. And now, you happened to get it."

"I see. Well, thank you very much," Audrey said, returning the gun to its pre-capture point of concealment. "At least I got something back."

"Don't mention it. In the Yard, you'll need all the hardware you can carry."

Audrey decided to change subjects in case a boss happened to walk by. She gathered the subject of slaves with guns was not something they wanted to hear. "So, if this is the control room, does that mean you're also in charge of overseeing mechanical operations?"

Marco laughed at this. "Ha! Overseeing mechanical operations? That's a fancy term for what I actually do. If you're thinking that those paranoid bastards upstairs would actually let a scab like me be in charge of all the machinery, you're mistaken."

"Then what do they have you doing in the control room, besides cutlery maintenance?"

"Besides weaponizing our standard issue steel saws, you mean? My only other task to date has been to monitor the boards for anything abnormal in the steel making process. In other words, if I see a red light appear where one shouldn't, I'm to holler at the bosses who then send one of their own to come fix it."

"So you don't know how to operate any of the equipment then?" asked Audrey.

"Oh, I do," answered Marco. "You can only work in my position for so long and not pick up a nugget or five of knowledge along the way. When I'm not monitoring or tinkering, I use the time to study the equipment training manuals on the computer in this room. Got to thinking it would be nice to know how to run this joint if we needed to use it after we're freed. In addition to how-to, the computer records provided me with a bit of background on this place. For example, this building is technically called a mini-mill. You saw how they have us breaking down all that junk from the ruins and reforging it? Well turns out Ashur and his boys had the right idea because that is exactly what this mill used to do anyway. All he had to do was come in, clear some debris, clean up the place, and in no time we've a steel-spittin', slave-killin' hellhole."

"While that's all well and good, what's to stop you from simply flipping a switch and shutting down the presses? Clearly you could do it if you wanted to."

"Easier said than done," replied Marco gravely. "While I _could_ do that, I'm only one man with a saw. And one man with a saw doesn't stack up too well against the ten bosses with guns that would come crashing in here if production ever ceased for anything other than a massive malfunction. Don't think I haven't been tempted though. I'd love to give my fellow oppressed man out there a break if I could. In the meantime, I have to be content with careful distribution of these death dealers amongst the workers. Speaking of which," he said as he hefted one of enormous saws off the table. He handed it to Audrey who grunted as she took the twenty pounds of deadly weight. "Welcome to the Pitt. Here's your fruit basket."

Turing the saw every which way and examining it, Audrey noticed that the words 'The Mauler' had been etched into the metal of this particular blade. When he saw her pick up on this, Marco disclosed to her that he only gave names to the best axes, and the soon-to-be hero of the Pitt deserved no less than his finest work. Marco then proceeded to show Audrey how to hold and operate the modified steel saw, which he called an auto axe. The name, he told her, came from the origin of the new blades he was putting on each machine, the heavy metal fan blades from the engines of pre-war cars. He explained that the reason for the alteration of the blade was to give the auto axes a more nefarious purpose than what they had originally been designed for. While the axes could still work with raw steel, the retooled fan blades were sharper and held a better edge. Marco's vision for when the rebellion started was for the slaves to stop cutting through steel and immediately start cutting through people. The auto axe also maintained most of its pre-war safety features. On the main handle were two triggers connected to dead man's switches, one for each hand. The saw could not be operated unless both of these triggers were depressed. Marco elaborated further by telling her that the saw's motor would still run after a successful pull start, but that the blade and drive chain could not be engaged without activation of the triggers.

"This thing clearly runs on gas," Audrey commented after getting a better look at the engine. "How do you guys find the fuel to power them? I thought all cars in the years before the War were nuke powered."

"An astute observation," said Marco approvingly. "We distill ethanol from rehydrated Dandy Boy Apples, which for whatever reason are a dime a dozen around these parts. Add some spices to it for spirits, leave it alone for fuel. All and all, a very convenient resource."

Audrey thanked Marco and started to leave when she remembered something. Actually, _two_ somethings.

"Marco, a couple of things. First, one of your overhead buckets is–"

"Swinging very badly? Yes, I know. Been like that since I started here and the bosses aren't keen to fix it any time soon. And the other thing?"

"A slave named Brand was asking about you. Seemed particularly interested in what you were doing in here."

Marco resumed the guarded demeanor from before. "Oh really? And what, exactly, did you tell him?"

"Nothing," Audrey answered frankly. "I didn't know anything, so there was nothing to tell. That, and he gave me the creeps."

"He happen to give you his customary offer?"

"No. I didn't exactly allow him time. I gather he's a snitch?"

"Bingo. Son of a bitch would sell out his own mother for a favor. Brand's M.O. is that he spies on the other slaves and then goes and tells the guards anything interesting he finds out. If it's relevant, they let him shrug off a few shifts here and there," Marco said indignantly. "Smug bastard thinks he alone deserves a reprieve. Hell, we all deserve a reprieve! Doesn't mean that he should get his at the expense of others."

Audrey was about to make a comment when an angry voice shouted out on the factory floor. "Where the _fuck_ is my Yard scab?!"

Marco groaned. "Well, you're late and the foreman's pissed. You've got what you came for, now go." Audrey thanked him again and then left in hurry. "Yard's that way; so are trogs; try not to die; have a nice day," he added dismissively as she left.

"Right here, sir," Audrey announced as she skidded to a halt in front the foreman's desk.

A dented metal nameplate on top of the desk said, 'Everett', the letters having been scrawled over the original text in grease pencil. On the way over, she'd decided to portray an outward image of good spirits. It might do something to throw the bosses off guard and could, at the very least, make them treat her with more respect than they would the typical worker who did nothing to hide his reluctance about going out to the steelyard.

"Here for what?" he growled.

"For Yard duty, sir."

Everett sat up and blinked a few times. "I'm sorry; you want to run that by me again?"

"I was picked for Yard duty," Audrey repeated.

"Yard duty. Really? Who'd you piss off get that assignment?"

"I killed some guards and now I'm here…sir."

The foreman clapped a hand to his forehead. "Holy crap!" he exclaimed. "That was you? Designation?"

"Seven Twenty-nine, sir."

"Well, Seven Twenty-nine, do you have any idea as to what you've gotten yourself into?"

"I've been briefed, sir, yes."

"Then you are aware that what lies beyond this room is very, _very _bad?" the foreman asked, indicating a door at the back of his office that opened into a darkened passageway. A sign above the door read: 'To the Yard'.

_Keep thinking happy thoughts_, Audrey told herself. "Yes, sir. I am well aware."

Everett stared at her in disbelief. "Then what the hell is your problem?" he barked.

"Sir? I don't understand." Inside though, Audrey was smiling triumphantly.

"Seven Twenty-nine…you're…happy! Why?"

"Because it's not mill duty, sir?"

Everett had finally had enough. He sat back and rubbed his furrowed brow. "Then allow me to reeducate your ignorant hide. Come here." He rose and walked towards the rear door. Audrey followed. "Oh, and you can stop with the 'sir' bullshit. I'm just Everett, you hear?"

"Fine by me," Audrey replied, feeling genuinely amicable for the first time in the conversation.

Everett led her out into a large open room with unused mining carts and piles of refuse littering the floor. Their path however, was not on the floor; it was an elevated walkway encased on all sides by a cage made of repurposed steel grating, effectively sealing them off from the rest of the room. The space beyond the cage smelled of human waste and worse odors beyond her comprehension. Audrey felt her confidence being to fade. There was something wrong with this room. The cage, the specific route through an otherwise empty area, they spoke of things she didn't want to think about. She also couldn't shake the feeling that she and Everett were being watched. She looked out into the room, but the dim lighting cast shadows that her eyes couldn't penetrate. There was nothing, and yet, she felt there was definitely something.

About a third of the way down the path, Everett instructed her to halt. Audrey waited uncertainly while he let out a sharp whistle.

"What are we doing?"

"Shhh," Everett whispered. "You'll see."

Audrey held her breath and listened. The drone of the mill's machines was ever-present in the background, but she noticed a skittering sound of sorts coming from somewhere within the room.

The beast hit the cage behind Audrey. The sound of the impact made her jump, and she yelped in surprise as she turned and fell back against the opposite side of the walkway. She looked on in terror as it snarled and shook the grating, trying to get at her and Everett. The skin of its face reminded Audrey of a latex glove filled with ground meat stretched tightly over a human skull. Its gaunt features accentuated its bone structure, making it have an almost demonic appearance. The glowing blood red eyes and sharpened teeth only added to this countenance. Each of its four limbs was a twisted mass of gnarled bone, sinew, and flesh, culminating in a clawed hand or foot. It was male, a fact that Audrey had to fight hard to ignore as its masculine extremities were undeniably visible. It looked impossibly agile, so emaciated was its hairless body, yet that same body practically trembled with a primal strength – and rage. Without thinking, Audrey wrestled the Mauler off her back, fired the engine and started to bring the saw to bear on the abomination in front of her. Only Everett's quick hands prevented the meeting of metal and monster.

"What the hell are you doing?" Everett screamed, grabbing the Mauler's handle and jerking it up and away from the creature. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Audrey had to release the safety triggers to avoid accidentally carving up Everett instead as the saw was yanked back.

"What does it freaking look like?" she shouted back.

"Like you're going to get us both killed! That cage is the only thing standing in between us and him. And if that gets compromised, he's in here. With us."

During this exchange, the beast had added its own yawping to the heated dialogue. Each guttural utterance drove a sharp spike of fear into the pit of Audrey's stomach. "Is that a trog?" she stammered.

"Yes," Everett confirmed. "This one in particular is named Frank. And he and all his other fucked up brothers and sisters outside are the reason you shouldn't be happy about this. Get with the program Seven Twenty-nine, this ain't a kiddy park!"

Audrey could only nod dumbly in agreement with this. There were very few things in the world that scared her. Her time outside the Vault had hardened her to most of the dangers of Capital Wasteland. But this trog, this…Frank, he and the thought of being forced out into an environment teaming with more like him, they terrified her to the very core of her soul. She let out a startled cry as a glob of saliva landed on one of her bare shoulders. Frank had clambered up to the top of the caged path and was now staring down at her, slavering.

"Damnit, Frank!" snapped Everett. "Is that any way to treat company?" Frank's response was to rotate towards Everett and give him a threatening hiss. "Fine, have it your way."

Everett produced a retractable cattle prod from within his long coat and shoved the sparking end up through the cage and into Frank's belly. The trog shrieked with pain and annoyance. He curled his long fingers around the shaft of the prod and tried to rip it away from Everett's grasp. "You know this never works, don't you buddy?" he said fiercely. Everett then proceeded to jab Frank in the privates. Frank howled as his sensitive area received an unwanted jolt of electricity and finally leapt off the cage and bounded into the darkness. Audrey could still hear him growling from somewhere in the shadows.

She looked at Everett in disbelief. "You gave that thing a name?" was all she could think to say.

Everett stared down at her contemptuously. "Watch your tone, girl," he warned. "Frank was my best friend when we first signed on with Ashur. Had That Shit not taken him, he'd still be my best friend. Now, he's the best visual aid a guy can ask for in my case. I show him to every poor scab who comes through here."

"To what end? Why not just put him out of his misery?" Audrey retorted. "Instead you're using him for your own sick amusement!"

Everett angrily grabbed Audrey by the shoulder straps of her slave garb and shoved her forcefully against the wall of the cage. Her eyes went wide as she feared Frank would return to wrap his cold fingers around her throat from behind.

"Don't you get it?" Everett shouted. "I use Frank in this way because you need to know what danger you face! I'm tired of seeing you people die!" He released Audrey and she slid back to the floor of the walkway. "Pick yourself up," he said coldly, moving on. "It's time."

Audrey scooped up the Mauler and hurried after Everett, feeling ashamed. He had just revealed something very telling to her. She should have caught on, and now felt like a fool.

The other end of the path deposited them onto a receiving dock. Audrey could feel a breeze whistling in from the holes in the dock's two large garage doors. The Yard lay beyond.

"I'm sorry," Audrey said feeling guilty. "I didn't expect–"

"You didn't expect a slaver to give a shit about your kind?" Everett finished.

"Yeah."

"Figures." Everett gave Audrey a long look. "When I signed up for this, I did so with the promise of riches, booze, and the knowledge that I was going to be part of something big," he said finally. "Now, I'm the damn mill foreman with the blood of dozens on my hands, no richer, but a lot drunker. I didn't sign up to kill innocent people, Twenty-nine. I didn't do it send them to their deaths either. But now I'm stuck here, with the job of an executioner and a friend back there who can't even wipe his own ass. So all I can do is try and help those who go into the Yard, help them with knowledge of what awaits. That, and hope they're smart enough to figure out the rest on their own."

"I'm a willing student, Everett. Teach me what I need to know."

"You sure about that? You seemed pretty cocksure back there to me."

"I was wrong. I want your help. Please."

Everett folded his arms and studied Audrey for a moment. "Okay, Twenty-nine. I'm going to give you some instructions. Once you're out there, you follow those instructions to the letter. If you don't, I'm not going to see you again."

"Okay."

"First, get me ten ingots. Ten ingots only. Repeat that to me," he commanded.

"Ten ingots only", Audrey replied dutifully.

"Second, arm yourself. That steel saw ain't gonna' cut it against a pack of trogs. Fortunately for you, some of my fellow bosses met their end out in the steelyard. Find their gear and use it to your advantage.

"Understood."

"Third, keep moving. If you stay in one spot, the trogs will swarm you before you know it. If you see an ingot, snatch it and keep going. An erratic target helps throw off the trogs' interest somewhat. They're ambush predators and need time to hunt their prey. They can't do that effectively if they don't know where the prey is going.

"Finally, once you have ten ingots, get back here immediately and bang on this door as loud and as hard as you can. If you're alive by the time I get there, I'll let you inside and that'll be the end of your Yard stint, plain and simple."

Audrey took a deep breath as she absorbed all of this. "I think I'm ready for this then."

"No you're not, Twenty-nine. No one ever is and there's no shame in admitting it." Everett walked over to the exit and put his hand on the door handle. "Now when I open this door, you get your ass through there. Just because I want you to live, doesn't mean I want to let a bunch of Frank's friends in here because you're too scared to go outside."

"Can't feel much worse than I do now," said Audrey lightly.

"I wish that were true," said Everett solemnly. "One more thing."

"Yeah?"

"If there is a God, may He help you out there. Because there is nothing else on this earth that can."

Audrey nodded and held her breath. Everett yanked open the door. As she moved, she barely heard him shout "Go!" The next instant, she was through. Behind her, the door slammed.

And locked.

Now standing on a loading dock, Audrey saw for the first time that the steel mill was far larger than she'd originally believed. Before her stretched the entirety of the steel production complex, its looming buildings casting vast shadows across the grounds. This only added to the gloom of an area that was already poorly lit by an overcast and smog-filled yellow sky. To her left, an angled fence stretched along the back lot and foundation of one of the buildings. On the other side of this fence, she could see shapes milling about in the lot's green glow. There was a high concentration of radiation there – and a high concentration of trogs, if the shapes were to be interpreted as such. She listened for movement coming her way, but heard nothing save the sounds of industry. It didn't make her feel any better.

Audrey could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest. This was real. This nightmare was real and beyond anything she'd prepared herself for. _Come on, Audrey. Get a grip_, she told herself. The mission was still a go and all she'd been asked to do right now gather ten ingots. _Ingots which are scattered about in this labyrinth of death. No! You have to focus._ Get the ingots, get out; those were her objectives. Get the ingots and she'd be rid of this place. _I'm getting nothing accomplished by standing here._ It was time to get this job done. Audrey shuddered. _God, protect me._

But where to begin looking? Audrey pondered this as she reluctantly moved from underneath the dock's awning out onto a portion of the structure which had been converted into a small watch tower. From what Midea and Everett had said, the ingots could be anywhere out here. Her foot struck something solid and she looked down to see what the encumbrance was. It was the body of a dead slave. He looked to have died several days ago and his right hand had been chewed off at the wrist. This site did not perturb Audrey as she had been around many dead bodies since leaving the Vault, most of them being the product of her own hand. What did catch her attention was what was lying beside the body. An R91 assault rifle, complete with two fully loaded magazines.

Breathing a small sigh of relief at this show of good fortune, Audrey picked up the gun and worked its action, thankful that aside from some dirt in the receiver the weapon could still function. After loading one of the magazines into the rifle, she knelt down to examine the body. On it, she found a box containing fifty-two more 5.56mm rounds along with five bobby pins, a coup of a find out here. Bobby pins were something she never left home without, as they were routinely handy at forcing locks with the assistance of a screwdriver or any other tension device. The poor man had been well prepared, she observed, but it still hadn't done him any good. She'd have to be more careful than he had been. The slave had also been carrying a dirty sling bag. When Audrey looked inside it, she found another unexpected surprise: two steel ingots.

The ingots were rectangular in shape and tapered to where they plateaued at the top. When she tried lifting one, Audrey found it to have some heft to it. Each ingot had to weigh at least fifty pounds. That meant the dead man had to drag all that weight through Trogville.

"So I'm going to have to do this in relays," she muttered sourly. "Oh well, not like there's going to be anyone here to jack my stash."

She hauled the ingots over to a spot next to the door and arranged them so that they formed the beginning of an orderly stack. Two down, eight to go. Time to move out. Taking the sling bag, she readied the assault rifle and proceeded cautiously down the ramp of the loading dock and out into the steelyard.

Above her, enormous rusty steam pipes creaked and groaned, and it was all she could do to banish to thought of one breaking loose and falling on her. Having the assault rifle made her feel marginally safer, but Audrey knew she'd be unwise to put all her trust in it. The only one she could count on out here to survive was herself. That's was Everett expected of her. That's what Wernher and Midea expected. That's what the enslaved people of this place expected. It was what she was making herself accept. As she moved between a dead tractor-trailer and a large empty shipping container, her ears picked up a voice. It was a man's, and it was in distress. _Big surprise._

"Billy…please look at me, Billy," he was saying. His plea was answered by a growl.

Not sure what to make of this, Audrey sidled along the side of the shipping container and ventured a wary glance around its end once she reached it. Ahead and to her right, a man was couched down behind a fence, beckoning to a trog pacing erratically in front of him. His clothes suggested that he was a slave. The tattered strips of cloth on the back of the trog suggested that the beast was once of the same social status. What was this slave doing? _Why doesn't he run? _Audrey wondered. Then it hit her: a name. The man had called the trog by name. Just like Everett, with Frank.

"Billy, its John John, your brother. You remember me don't you?"

_Please, God, make him run_, Audrey silently begged. _That thing is no longer his brother!_ She wanted desperately to call out to him, to shoot Billy and end his suffering. But the will to do so was gone and she could only look on helplessly.

"The exit's right over there, Billy! We can make it if–" John John never finished this sentence. Billy had sprung and was now tearing into his brother's chest.

"No!" Audrey cried, her voice sounding impossibly loud over John John's tortured screams. She slapped a hand over her mouth, having realized what she'd just done. But the mistake couldn't be unmade.

Billy paused briefly in the decimation of his brother and looked directly at Audrey. His eyes blazed red. She had his full attention. In one swipe, he took John John's head clean off, and then scaled the fence with alarming quickness. Audrey was already retreating back towards a collection of dumpsters when the trog hit the ground and charged her. Billy lunged again and she ducked then pivoted as he sailed over her. The trog's trajectory smashed him into the corner of one of the dumpsters and he lay on the ground momentarily stunned. His stupor did not last long as Audrey's rounds tore through his body and finished him off.

Audrey kept her gun trained on Billy's still body, not believing he was truly dead. The swiftness and savagery with which he'd attacked did not bode well for her. There were more like him out here and she only had so much ammo. She'd used a fair amount of it in bringing Billy down. She forced herself to take a deep calming breath. She had survived one trog attack; if she was careful, she could probably survive another.

She hadn't heard second trog coming. If she had, it wouldn't have made that much of a difference. It hit her from behind with the force of a pre-war NFL linebacker, sending her sprawling across the ground and her rifle spinning away out of her reach. The gun clattered when it hit the ground and ultimately slid out of sight down the gaping maw of a deep storm drain. Audrey tried to scream but the force of the impact had jettisoned all the air from her lungs. She could feel the trog straddling her back. It was trying to claw at her, but the bulk of the Mauler strapped to her back made this difficult. Audrey did her best to dodge its blows, rolling from side to side while keeping her face pressed into the ground and her hands over her head. The trog's actions became increasingly frustrated and it finally resorted to gripping Audrey's shoulders and leaning down to tear off her ear with its teeth.

By this point, Audrey had gotten most of her wind back, and she'd had enough. She yelled and then pushed off the ground with all of her strength, propelling herself up and backward to where she and the trog were now lying on top of one another, facing upward with the Mauler sandwiched in between them. The creature let go in surprise. Frantically undoing the straps of the auto axe, Audrey freed herself from the saw and left the thrashing trog to grapple with its dead weight.

With her assault rifle gone, only one weapon was left at her disposal. Backing up against the same dumpster Billy had collided with, she drew her .32, and aimed it at the trog. She cocked the hammer, and pulled the trigger.

_Click._

A misfire! Right now? She pulled the trigger again.

_Click._

The pistol misfired again and her attention strayed from the target. _What is wrong with this gu_– She jerked sideways as the Mauler slammed into the dumpster next to her head, the thing having been hurled with enough force to embed its blade in the container's metal exterior. Audrey looked in alarm from the Mauler to where the trog was making angry slashing motions in the air. Then it bounded towards her. Once more she squeezed the trigger.

_Click._

"Come on!" she shouted. The cylinder was turning and she knew the gun to be loaded. What was happening? She tried again.

_Click._

The trog was nearly upon her. "God, please," Audrey begged, tears starting to form in her eyes. "Not here, not like this!" She squeezed the trigger one final time.

The gun bucked in her hands as it went off, its round passing through the trog's brain and out the back of its head. Its body came to rest in a heap at her feet.

Audrey stared in shock at the gun and at the two dead trogs in front of her. Her head began to swim and her body started to tremble. Her legs no longer able to support her, she slid to the dirt and fell back against the dumpster. Her heart felt like it was in her throat and her breath came in short gasps. That had been far too close. Stupidity and inattention had nearly cost her her life twice within the past five minutes. She thought she was better than this, above rookie mistakes. The only reason she'd survived just now was a combination of skill and divine intervention.

Trying to calm herself, she opened the .32's cylinder and dumped the rounds into her hand. Only there wasn't a bullet to be had; it was all spent brass. Another careless mistake. She'd taken it for granted that the gun would be fully loaded. But why would Wernher fill a gun with four empty cartridges and one live round? As she rolled the brass around in her hand, a small white object protruding from one of the empty casings caught her eye. Carefully, she extracted the object and examined it. It was a tiny, tightly rolled up scrap of paper. Now that her hands had stopped shaking, she unrolled the paper and discovered a message written on it. She read:

_Hero,_

_For when the going gets too tough. _

_- W. _

Audrey let go of the note and let it flutter away. Furiously, she tossed the brass then hurled the pistol as hard as she could. Where it landed, she didn't care. All she could think about was the sense of hurt and betrayal she now felt.

"Wernher, you two-timing son of a bitch!" she swore.

The man had set her up for failure. After all his talk about how she was to be the savior of the Pitt, he'd allowed for her to be shorn, branded, stripped of everything, and thrown into the most oppressive situation she'd ever known. And his cherry on top? A gun with one round in it, so that she could kill herself. Wernher hadn't even believed in his own plan! _Was giving me the means to end my life Wernher's idea of alleviating the burden on his conscience? _And what was the point of leaving her the note if she found it only _after_ she'd fired the gun? Audrey guessed that he'd probably assumed she would examine the weapon again once she was inside. Either way, it didn't make her happy. She leaned her head back against the cool grimy metal of the dumpster, fuming.

But her anger gave way to despair, and Audrey soon found herself sobbing uncontrollably. She'd messed up. She'd put aside all caution and blindly followed a stranger to what would likely be her doom. Fawkes was right. He was _always_ right; she should have brought him along. She _should_ have brought an entire army along. But what had she done when he'd insisted this? She'd practically railroaded him into complying with her wishes. All because of cocky, arrogant bullshit pride. As the Lone Wanderer, she'd felt invincible, but she was no longer that fabled symbol of freedom and justice for the Capital Wasteland. Now, she was just Audrey Epson, a scared and abused woman, far from home. A failure. A fuckup.

She would die here. Wernher's and Midea's vision of freedom would die here. No matter what she tried to do to prevent this, no matter how many rules Everett gave her, she knew she would meet her end in the Pitt. No one would know what had happened to her. For those that cared about her, there would be no body to bury. No closure to be had. A bloody statistic in a slaver's book would be all that marked her passing. The thought of Fawkes brought even more tears forth. Dying here would be equivalent to thrusting a knife into her friend's heart. The pain she knew it would bring him made her sick with grief.

Audrey heard something scraping about on the corrugated metal roof of one of the buildings behind her. Another trog, it had to be. She didn't bother to look. There was no point. It would be over soon. She had wasted Wernher's 'gift' to her and a gory demise was to be her reward. Her self-preservation instinct screamed for her to flee, but she ignored it, fatalism ruling her psyche.

She looked at her Pip-Boy, deciding that it would do to have some music at her funeral. She opened the Pip-Boy's radio frequency menu, intending to select the submenu which listed her audio files. The _1812 Overture _would be a nice piece to sound the conclusion of her life. Her attention, though, froze on the first screen. There was a frequency listed among the others, one which she had never before used. One which she hadn't given any thought to until eleven days ago, when she'd spoken to Wadsworth about…

The memory clicked into place and Audrey felt hope – real and true hope – spring up within her for the first time since her capture. She'd made a backup plan. A plan that the tribulations of the Pitt had made her forget about up until this point. Each Pip-Boy was equipped with a standard issue Vault-Tec distress beacon, one that maintained a continuous broadcast loop due to the Pip-Boy's rechargeable, slow to drain, solar battery. Once she activated it, her contingency measures would go into effect, and when they came to fruition…

_I'm going to live._ It almost made her laugh. _I'm going to live!_ "Thank you, Ashur, for leaving me this!"

Wasting no more time, she triggered the beacon. It showed no outward signs of being active, save only a small amber light on the Pip-Boy's casing that blinked in a slow rhythmic repetition. Now all that was left to do was to wait until the cavalry arrived. Wait, and make sure that she was alive when she did so.

Audrey suddenly sat up and froze. Her jubilation had caused her to forget about the other trog or whatever it was. The horrors she'd endured so far in this place had made her mind far less sharp and attentive than she liked. She listened for the trog. Heard nothing. It was as if the Yard had gone completely silent. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

A powerful hand clamped down on the rear straps of Audrey's slave uniform and dragged her bodily upward and over the pile of refuse overflowing from the dumpster. The hand released her and she was tossed like a limp rag into the trash heap. She rolled onto her side to behold what was standing over her. It was a trog, but not like any trog she had seen before. This one stood more erect than the typical trog and possessed more muscle development. The shabby attire it wore was reminiscent of an armor of some sort. Audrey realized then that this one was once a boss, now in the early stages of acute troglodyte mutation. Keeping her eyes on the trog, she let her hands find purchase on objects just beneath the surface of the garbage.

The trog grinned wickedly, exposing its pointed teeth, and then lifted her up by the throat. Whoever this trog had been before TDC had been naturally tall, and Audrey's feet now dangled in the air as the brute brought her in close. Its rapacious red eyes visually dissected her, and when it breathed in her face, she could smell nothing but rot. It grunted, and she was able to pick up the words, "scab…eat" out of the slurred mixture. The trog's grip tightened and Audrey could feel the air being squeezed out her neck.

"No," she wheezed. "I'm…not…_finished_!"

She struck.

The one advantage of facing down a victim of TDC was the absence of the higher processing skills in the brain of the afflicted. The trog's only focus had been to snatch Audrey, kill her, and then gorge upon her. It had ignored the fact that her hands had been left free. And with her unburdened hands, Audrey had procured a pair of metal shards from the trash and during the trog's moment of inattention, subsequently crammed them into either side of its head. The trog died as the two shards met in the middle of its grey matter, and it toppled over the end of the dumpster and its death grip took her with it. The two landed in a tangled mess and Audrey quickly removed the monster's hand from her neck and pushed its lifeless mass off of her.

Picking herself up, Audrey pried the Mauler loose from the dumpster. As the blade came free, a bloodcurdling shriek put an end to the stillness. She didn't know where it had come from, but it sounded close. Too close. This was followed by more howls and hoots. Her emotions no longer in the grip of despondency, Audrey could now think with clarity and her priorities had shifted. Even ingots weren't at the top of her list. Right now, survival was all that mattered. And that meant she needed to find a place to hide. Now. Hide and regroup. The trogs wouldn't wait for her to be decisive.

Eyes anxiously scanning for the threats she knew to be lurking nearby, Audrey scooped up her sling bag. With it and the Mauler now in hand, she set off at a quick pace. She knew not her destination, only that it was certainly going to be better than the trog-attracting dumpsters. _Where to hide? _She found the solution to this problem an instant later. She hadn't noticed it before, but hanging on the fence Billy had vaulted to get to her was an old sign showing the way to the entrance of a 'Supply Plant B'. A building, that was where she needed to go. It didn't matter what was inside, it would undoubtedly be safer than traipsing about in the open, of that she was sure. And she could fight better in tight quarters. Being a supply plant, there was also the possibility of it having some equipment that she could use to better outfit herself. At this point, she'd settle for anything that wasn't the big cumbersome Mauler.

The sounds of uncountable numbers of bloodthirsty mutations spurred her onward, and Audrey Epson abandoned her harried gate, settling now into a run for her life.


	15. Chapter 15

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 15.**

**_Author's Note:_  
><strong>

**_Hello, my faithful public - those of you who haven't given me up for dead. Here is your latest chapter. I actually had this chapter written months before, but during the early part of summer, I looked at that version and decided that I just didn't like it. Why? Violence. In writing about an FPS, a genre that is based almost entirely on violence, I find that it is hard NOT to write about death and destruction on a regular basis. The problem is, that if I were to write entirely about death and destruction, other elements of the story would be lost in the bloody shuffle. So, in rewriting this chapter, I have actually reduced the amount of death by about 75%. Considering what is STILL in this chapter, that should tell you just how nasty Version 1 was. (If any of you are curious, PM me and I can send you the original draft.) Enough of me though, go and read...and then wait for another eon while I get my next chapter together. Oh, one other thing, I will be performing maintenance on some of my older chapters, so if you see that a chapter has magically been uploaded, don't get too excited because Chapter 16 won't be coming for a while. This maintenance will be nothing more than fixing typos; nothing plot related will change at all._**

**_- T. Fett_**

* * *

><p>"How'd you know she'd want the gun?"<p>

This question was posed by Wernher. He was seated at the kitchen table of his safe house, a late breakfast from a can of potted meat half-finished beside him. He'd been interrupted by his floating robot guest, which had come out from the back room where it had been lying dormant for two days. The man in the suit wanted to talk.

The conversation had started by informing Wernher that Audrey was now awake and had been sent to the Yard. He'd nearly come unglued at this, but the man had assured him that a pack of trogs wouldn't be nearly enough to stop her. Wernher hadn't bought into that notion, but he kept this and all the fears that went with it to himself.

His holographic houseguest was now pacing back and forth across a knot in the wood of the tabletop. It reminded Wernher of the movements of a tiger, sizing up its prey before lunging for the kill. Benefactor or not, this man made him nervous.

"I'm sorry, come again?"

"The gun," Wernher repeated. "How'd you know she'd ask?"

"The holdout pistol, you mean?" The man paused briefly to look at Wernher.

"Yeah, the one you gave to me to offer her."

Pacing again, the man smiled. "I knew she'd have need of it."

"But I gave her the choice between the gun and the knife. She took the pistol, just like you said. "_How_ did you know?"

"She prefers bullets over blades."

"Why would she even want it, though?" Wernher persisted. "If she wasn't going to follow my plan, why ask for it? She had that silenced pistol already."

The man pursed his lips in mild annoyance. "Like any good operative, she planned for the worst. And to her, slavery is the worst. In the event that she was forced to work, she wanted to do so, armed." He stopped pacing. "Is there something bothering you, Wernher?"

Wernher hesitated, and then said, "I don't like keeping secrets from people who are counting on me, nor do I like having the people _I_ depend on keeping secrets from me. You won't let me tell her about your involvement. You won't let me tell her the truth about the cure. And you talk as though you know her." He leaned down close to the hologram. "Do you two have a history I should be aware of?"

"We have…a difference of opinion in terms of methodology," said the man. "If she knew I was supporting the liberation of your people, she'd be less inclined to help."

"Why?"

"You are treading on ground that is best left undisturbed, Wernher. We shall not discuss this further." The man's voice had lowered in pitch and his tone held a hint of ice.

"Bullshit," Wernher challenged. "I've earned the right to know."

Abruptly, the hologram disappeared and the floating robot snapped to attention, pointing its zapper straight at Wernher's head. A warm red light began to emanate from inside the zapper's barrel. The man in the suit spit words out of the machine's speaker, his tone callous and rebuking.

"The affairs of Audrey Epson and myself do not concern you," he said fiercely. "What should concern you is your little uprising and getting that damn cure! Until you have fulfilled your part of the arrangement, you have earned _nothing. _You wouldn't even be this close to your goal without the backing of my organization, so I'd advise you to keep your opinions to yourself and to do what you are told."

"The last person who said that to me was Ashur," Wernher retorted venomously. "And right now, you're sounding more and more like–" Abruptly, the robot's zapper switched positions and fired a single bolt. Wernher hissed in alarm and pain as the beam grazed his hand, leaving a singed welt. He pulled his hand back and glowered at the machine.

"If you want your people to be free of that place, you'll cooperate. The same goes if you want to be among them when they achieve that freedom, understand?" The robot's speakers quivered with each sharp syllable. "You and I want the same thing, Wernher, but we won't get it if we become suspicious of one another." The robot moved to within an inch of Wernher's face. "Don't become a hindrance."

The bot backed away and zoomed out of the kitchen, and then Wernher heard it re-folding itself into standby at the back of the house. As he sat nursing his injured hand, feeling goose bumps rising across his body, he wondered if accepting aid from this man had been the right decision. More and more it seemed as though he'd traded one master for another.

* * *

><p>As she engaged the pair of industrial strength locks on Supply Plant B's metal door, Audrey let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. Getting to the building had been a nightmare in and of itself, the previous three trog attacks aside. She'd had to pass through the Yard's rail depot, moving between rows of idle boxcars while listening to frightening sounds all around her. She was certain she'd heard something big leaping along the tops of the boxcars, but hadn't stopped to see what it was. She sensed that if she had, whatever was on top of the cars would have been on her in seconds. Once she'd spied the supply plant's entrance, she'd cut to the right, hurdled a pair of couplers, and then sprinted the rest of the way to the door. Passing through it and hearing it click shut behind her provided her a small measure of relief. When she turned from the door to face the room she'd just entered, that relief fizzled out.<p>

Amazingly this place still had power, and the overhanging florescent lights displayed a scene that Audrey could only describe in one word: carnage. The space was flanked on either side by two giant machines. The one on the left was an operational semicylindrical generator that stretched the length of the room while the one on the right was a large square construct with a pair of pipes running to it from the floor. Both had blood spattered all over their dull metal hulls. These spatters complimented the smears and streaks of red that crisscrossed the floor, and in places, traveled up onto the walls. Bodies and parts of more bodies were strewn everywhere, the states of dismemberment speaking volumes of the ferocity with which the victims were killed. These people, whoever they'd been, had literally been ripped apart. And the deed looked to have been recent.

There was no way she would stay in this building. Audrey grabbed at the door handle and struggled to yank it open, momentarily forgetting in her haste that she'd locked herself in. She was reaching for the first deadbolt when something slammed into the door from the outside. Audrey jumped back in fright. Whatever had been stalking her in the rail depot had not been deterred by such a simple thing as a hinged barrier. The thing outside barreled into the door again, hard enough this time to shake some of the rust off the hinges. Audrey could hear it roaring in frustration.

Caught between horrors within and horrors without, she struggled to reel herself in from the abyss of total panic. Setting aside her auto axe, she hurried to a vending machine that sat against the wall next to the exit. Putting her shoulder against it, she pushed as hard as she could. The vending machine started to lean unstably and then finally toppled so that it fell on its side against the exit door, its already-broken glass face shattering completely upon impact. Audrey hoped that the steady thrum of the generator had effectively muffled the sound of the crash, but she wasn't counting on it.

The front door rattled as it absorbed blow after blow, but between the locks and the bulk of the vending machine, it held firm. Outside, the attacker raged. The tempo was incessant and its cacophony made Audrey's head spin. She fell to her knees.

"Go away," she whimpered, covering her ears to shut out the relentless assault. "Please stop. I'm not worth it. Just go away. Go away. Go…" She knelt there, repeating this over and over again until she was simply mouthing the words, her voice being swallowed by dread.

Audrey didn't know how much time had passed, just that when the banging and screeching finally ceased, the relative silence that followed was numbing. Even the noise from the generator was not enough to fill the void. She stood, unsteadily at first, regarding the front door warily. Whatever she'd incensed was gone now, but it had left a literal impression in its wake. The door was generally bowed in the center now and the vending machine had been scooted forward nearly half an inch. On one of the locks, the bolt had forced its strike box almost completely out of the doorjamb. Even if it was safe to leave the building – Audrey didn't have any illusions about that – that door was now effectively out of commission.

Across from her was another door. She tried it but it stubbornly refused to budge, having been locked from the other side. She saw that her bobby pins would be of no use either, as the door required a special key, one that pins and a screwdriver couldn't imitate. That left the hallway on the opposite end of the room, or the exit behind her; the latter choice was clearly out of the question and the former potentially led her closer to whatever had perpetrated the slaughter in which she stood.

She turned and gazed bleakly at the hallway leading out of the room. She had wandered into the lair of something, and the only way to get out now was to go deeper inside. The plant had to have more than one exit. Audrey glanced at the Mauler. _And all I have is you._

"Time to see what you're made of," she told the saw as she picked it back up. In the back of her mind though, she knew she was really saying this to herself.

Gripping the Mauler for all it was worth, she began walking towards the hall. Her insides churned as she listened to – and felt – flesh and blood being squished together under her feet. She vowed that if she ever made it back to the mill, she would kiss Marco for giving her those boots. _If I was walking around in this with bare feet – oh crap!_ Having now reached the entry to the hall, Audrey doubled over and threw up, though it amounted to dry heaving as she hadn't eaten anything. She had to screw her eyes shut to avoid seeing what she was still standing in. Thinking about it was bad enough; _looking_ at it would only make it worse. After a few moments, she finally felt well enough to press on.

Upon entering the hallway, the trail of human remains mercifully ended, but the blood did not. A wide line of crimson meandered along the floor and into the next room. Steeling her nerve, Audrey followed the trail, and when she rounded the corner into the doorway she saw the trail's end. This room looked much like the first. More generators and utility equipment filled the space and it had another doorway on the far side that led into yet another hall. It even came complete with its own ghastly scene. In the center of the room, a man lay face down on the ground, blood pooling around him from the area of his abdomen. The blood trail culminated at him. His arms were outstretched as though he'd been crawling, one hand mere inches from – Audrey could scarcely believe her luck – one of three steel ingots.

Three ingots, just sitting right there for the taking. If she could somehow get them out of the building, that would put her total up to five. She slung the Mauler across her back and went over to where the ingots lay. She bent down to pick one up. When her hand touched steel, the man's hand grabbed her ankle.

It took everything Audrey had to bite back the shriek that threatened to burst forth from her. She jerked free only to slip and fall in the man's blood, banging her head on the side of one of the generators. Ignoring the small goose egg welling up on the back of her head, she stared wide-eyed at the not-so-deceased person on the floor in front of her. He was staring at her, too.

"Get away!" he rasped, red spittle exiting his mouth as he spoke. Audrey recoiled at his words, backing further against the generator until she was close to the room's other doorway. "They're my ingots! Mine!"

Audrey mechanically opened and closed her mouth a few times before she found the words to speak again. All she could think to ask was, "Who did this to you?"

"_He_ did!" was the man's maniacal response. He began coughing violently, the spasms sending more blood out his mouth and the rip now visible in his gut. Audrey wanted to make him stop. She feared what every cough might bring in to investigate, but she wasn't about to make a move to touch him. The man finally spoke again, but his words were frail at best. "H-He st-tole them. From us. He took o-o-our ingots. We chased him h-here, and then he– His–"

"His what?" Audrey urged insistently.

"His trogs…were…waiting." The man then let out a gurgle and said no more, his body stilled for eternity.

Audrey felt as though her whole body had gone numb. His trogs were waiting. _His_ trogs were waiting? Out of the pot and into the fire, she thought. _I'm in the playground of a murdering psychopath. Who keeps trogs as his own mutant guard dogs. And I'm sitting in a puddle of blood._ She had a sudden desire to laugh, even though there was nothing remotely funny about her predicament. Her level of screwed had been ratcheted up so high, it now seemed absurd.

She glared at the three ingots. She wasn't going to collect them. Nothing in this place was worth the effort. After wiping her bloodstained hands on one of the walls, she left the room and the ingots behind.

After going down another passage, Audrey found herself standing on a walkway overlooking a division of the factory floor. Miniature rail lines ran in grooves cut into the foundation with transport carts sitting along the tracks. Some were overturned, but others remained upright as if waiting for their workers to return and direct them to their next destination. Empty oil drums and mounds of rubble and trash had been shoved into the corners of the room. And finally, the sight that lifted her spirits: a way out. A large garage door sat on the far wall, its rolling panels fully extended to the floor. It had been further reinforced by a barricade of carts and assorted bulky items. While she wouldn't be able to lift the thing – the door's electric opener had long since vanished from its mounting brackets – she could still cut through it. Marco had said the Mauler was rated for steel, so thin aluminum shouldn't be a problem. All she needed was a hole wide enough and she'd be free. As her eyes left the door her ears registered the sound. The sound of food being masticated. Cursing every step, Audrey moved closer to the edge to get a better look.

The walkway, she saw, ended in flight of stairs that ran down to a slightly wider mid-level loop which then had more stairs leading from it to the floor. And near the foot of the bottom set of stairs was a pile of meat. Easily a good five feet across, the stack of butchery contained shredded bits of both human and trog remains. The scent of rotten flesh was enough to make Audrey feel sick again, but she did her best to suppress it. She didn't want to make any noise as there were two trogs feasting on this gory hill.

_There are no words_, she thought, assessing the unseen trog keeper's work. He'd given them their play time – killing – and now it was chow time. A tremor coursed down her spine. The very idea of someone living in harmony with this manner of beasts was enough to make her skin crawl.

Taking her steps as quietly as she could so as not to alert the trogs, Audrey moved further out onto to the walkway. The metal creaked impossibly loud underneath her feet as she stepped. Stifling a gasp, she flicked her eyes down to the trogs. There was no way they hadn't heard that. Yet, they didn't move from their spots, preferring instead to remain fully engrossed in their gruesome feast. Audrey let a held breath hiss out from between her clenched teeth. This place must be full of all sorts of creaks and groans. Apparently one more was not enough to draw the attention of the trogs. Gunshots, footsteps, and human voices on the other hand, drew their notice and ire every time. If only she had a gun to make noise with. But she knew the path to the garage door led through the trogs and their meal. Reluctantly, Audrey swung the Mauler around to her front. If she could cut through the door, she could cut through them, too. She worked her fingers around the handle of the pull cord. When she started the engine, the sound would forewarn the trogs. It would be a bloody, messy fight. She yanked the cord.

A loud bang cut the tension.

Only it didn't come from the Mauler, which hadn't started on the first pull. Years of neglect and oxidation had eroded the mounts that held the elevated walkway's supports to the ceiling. And Audrey's weight and movement on the structure was the straw that finally broke the camel's back. The loud sound from overhead was one of the supports coming loose from its mount. This was followed by additional pops as more supports failed and Audrey felt the catwalk start to list. She whirled to run back the way she'd come, only to see her end of the structure shear away from the wall. She turned around again and had made it a few feet towards the descending stairs before the broken catwalk dropped out from under her. Caught in a mixture of free fall and semi-controlled slide, she hugged the Mauler to her chest to keep it from swinging wildly about. Her course would have deposited her onto the middle loop, but the top catwalk smashed through the loop instead and took Audrey with it the rest of the way. Just as she was about to hit the deck, the catwalk's severed end landed in front of a worn couch set against the wall and woman and weapon were thrown into the old musty sofa. Before she had time to register even a pulse of gratitude at her unexpectedly soft landing, she heard another ominous sound. With a screech of rending metalwork, the entire stair system collapsed upon itself and came crashing down around her. Audrey threw her arms over her head and buried her face as far as it would go into the couch cushions, not caring a thing about how bad they smelled. Within seconds, it was all over.

Though the landing had been better than it could have been had she hit the concrete, Audrey's body still felt like a mass of aches and pains. The couch had numerous springs sticking out from the seat, and falling on them had not been pleasant. Wincing as one of the metal coils dug into her thigh, she sat up and looked to where the trog feast had been. The meat pile was gone, replaced by a foothill in the mountain of steel wreckage that now surrounded her couch island. Sticking out from underneath this foothill, she could see the crushed forms of the two trogs. She could tell that they were indeed dead as their immobile limbs were the only ones in that spot that did not bear the mark of being cut to ribbons. But their demise hadn't left her as the sole occupant of the room. More trogs were now picking their way through the ruins of the stair system, practically every one inhabiting the building from the look of it. The collapse of the stairs had drawn them like moths to a flame. Add in the prospect of fresh meat – her – and Audrey surmised that it was all a member of the TDC crowd could ever hope for. Over a dozen in number, the mutants snarled and slowly advanced.

Her eyes never leaving the approaching trogs, Audrey stood and shifted the Mauler around to face them. She jerked the pull cord and after a few coughs, the engine sputtered to life. As the machine rumbled in her hands, she depressed the duel triggers and the quartet of sharpened fan blades began to spin, becoming a circular, scything blur. One of trogs hopped up on a fallen trestle in front of her. It bared its teeth and stared her down. Audrey stared right back. Neither moved.

"What are you waiting for?" she coldly addressed the trog. "Come on, make my day."

The trog obliged and sprung toward her. Audrey fell backward into the couch and allowed the creature to land on the Mauler's waiting teeth. The spinning blade went through flesh like a hot knife through butter and the trog was killed as the auto axe slashed through its chest and split its heart in two. Another trog, this one a female, came at Audrey from the right and met the same fate as the first. In a deadly arc, Audrey carved a vertical path through the first trog that went from its chest up through its face and out the top of its head and brought the Mauler back down on the neck of the second one. Two more came at her from the other direction and she quickly ripped the auto axe to the left and eviscerated both in one smooth motion. The remaining trogs were giving her space now, looking not as sure of themselves as they had been before. Audrey kicked the bodies away from her and stood up once more, foreign blood running in rivulets down her front.

"What now!?" she demanded, stepping toward the pack and revving the Mauler's engine. The trogs retreated further, hissing and growling in agitation. "That's right, I'm not an easy meal, am I?" Backing through the debris, she moved out onto the factory floor. The trogs followed, but maintained a cautious distance. Audrey continued to goad them. "Tell your master I won't go quietly. Go on! Tell him that if he screws with me, he's–"

From a doorway in the brick wall that bisected the production area, a small object rolled into the room. It continued across the floor and finally came to a stop in between Audrey and the trogs. It was a tin can. One of its ends was covered in tape, done in such a way that the tips of the long, pointed objects inside the container were visible through the sticky material. It took Audrey a few seconds to recognize what this was, and when she did it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Something clicked within the can. Her stomach dropped.

"Dead," she whispered, finishing her thought from before. She threw the Mauler up in front of her face, knowing it was all she had time to do. Knowing that it wouldn't be enough.

The homemade bomb erupted in a flash of sparks, nails, and shrapnel. Audrey was knocked back hard against one of the carts. She lay there, shell-shocked, her ears ringing and vision blurry. Through the white noise, the agonized cries of trogs began to cut through. Before she could grasp any of this, she saw another small item skidding along the floor. It let out a pop and then thick white smoke began hissing out of one side. The smoke quickly filled the room, making her already cloudy field of view completely obscure.

Then came the gunshot. It was the distinct _klet-chet boom_ of a pump-action shotgun and it was preceded by heavy footfalls and followed by the scream of a dying trog. Again and again, the shotgun barked its report until the only sound left in the room was of fresh shells being stuffed into the weapon's breach. _Klet-chet! _The shotgun was primed once more. Then there were more footsteps. They were coming toward her.

From out of the haze, a shrouded figure appeared and stood before Audrey. Lying on her back with her head turned to the side, she could only see his boots and the shins of his legs as they stretched upward from his feet. Although she couldn't see it, she knew this man held the shotgun and knew that he meant to use it on her. Suddenly, Audrey felt very spent. She was too tired to cry, to beg, to move, to do anything for that matter; there wasn't much point anyway. Come what may, she knew she didn't have the energy to run or fight anymore.

The man knelt down next to her. Audrey could feel his hands on her body. She wondered if he meant to defile her before he disposed of her. If he did, she didn't think she could do anything to stop him. And yet, his touch wasn't rough. He was examining her, but not in the carnal way she'd expected. It as was though he was checking her for…something… He lifted up her arm and she felt his thumb running along the uneven edges of her numerical brand. When he did this, her hand flopped in front of her face. The palm was red. It had been lying across her stomach. Had she been injured?

"Aw no. Bill, what did you do?" The man's speech sounded stifled as though he were wearing a mask. "You done caught the wrong fuckin' fish."

One of his hands left her and Audrey heard a knife being unsheathed. She braced herself for the worst, but it never came. Instead, when the hand with the knife returned, it cut through the straps of the Mauler. "That's better," said the man once he'd removed the auto axe from Audrey's grasp. He grunted and then her world began to move. All she could see was smoke, but she could tell she wasn't in the same position any longer. They were moving now, she and the man. He was carrying her.

"Where…wha…?" she mumbled.

"Hush now." The man's voice was soft and soothing. "Bill's gonna make it all better. Don't you worry."

Part of Audrey wanted to worry though, _needed_ to worry. She was letting herself be carried off by a stranger. A stranger that would probably kill her! No, there was no probably about it. She'd be dead if she didn't do something! _Now!_ But another part, the bigger part, the one that held more sway, said that this wasn't something to be concerned with. It was her body, and it was telling her that it had had enough. Her eyes grew heavy. Her mind protested valiantly, but ultimately the body won the day and rendered her unconscious.


	16. Chapter 16

**Fallout 3: **_**Pittfall**_

**Chapter 16.**

_**Author's Note:**_

_**I am not dead, and neither is this story. That is all.**_

_**- T. Fett**_

* * *

><p><em> "Oh my Darlin', Oh my Darlin',<br>__Oh my Daaaaaaarlin', Clementine,  
><em>_You are lost and gone forever,  
><em>_Dreadful sorry, Clementine."_

Audrey's eye shot open as she took in the sound. Her other eye remained shut in protest and for want of more sleep.

Singing. There was someone singing. That voice…Fawkes didn't have a twang. Dogmeat couldn't talk and Wadsworth always addressed her with more formality. Audrey couldn't make heads or tails of any of this. Was she not at home? No…she had left home. And she had gone to…someplace. And that someplace hadn't been good. She had a sense that there had been a bright light and then…and then… Bits and pieces were starting inch their way back into her memory now. Not a light; there had been a flash. And a bang. She remembered being on the ground. Her hand had been red…that hadn't seemed like a good thing either.

There had also been a man. With a shotgun. She hadn't seen his face. He had felt her up – no, that wasn't it – he had been examining her. And then he had taken her to–

_Oh no!_

His voice had had a twang too.

Now both of her eyes were open. Once again, Audrey found that she was lying in a bed and covered up by blankets. She moved to sit up and stifled a wince. Gingerly, she drew back the blankets. Around her midsection was a wrap of cloth bandages. How had they gotten there? And why? Had she been patched up or carved up? She touched the spot where the bandages were the thickest and felt not quite pain, but more of a tightness to the area. Whatever had happened to her, she knew she couldn't address it now. She just needed to get out of there. As quietly as she could, Audrey eased herself from the bed. The man's singing – which now included an alternation between whistling and humming - was coming from the next room.

Whatever this space once had been, Audrey's location was now clearly designated as a bedroom area, its centerpiece not a true bed but a quartet of mattresses stacked two by two, set on top of one another so that the top mattresses had the opposite orientation from the bottom. A clothes line stretched diagonally across the room, and her captor's gasmask dangled from it on a hanger. In one corner a wide filing cabinet sat open, its drawers no longer containing files or paper, but overflowing with garments instead. Spanning the length of the back wall was a bank of video monitors. Some were lit with active images while others remained dark. Audrey examined one of the screens; it showed the entry chamber of the supply plant in all of its gruesome glory. _So he unleashed the trogs then holed up here to watch the show,_ she mused. Assuming, _here_ was still inside the plant. Despite how much this disgusted her, she had to give the man credit; he'd turned the Yard's terrors into a security measure. From what she'd seen of the Pitt so far, this was no easy feat.

Near the monitors was a sealed door, with the locks on her side for a change. Audrey started to unlock it, and paused. There was no telling what lay beyond that door; it could be trogs. She looked back at the only other exit from the room, a mangled hole in the wall opposite from where she stood; it had likely been another doorway in better days. She let a sigh escape through her nose. At this point, being locked up with a psychopath was preferable to fighting off more trogs. And in order to escape from this place, she was going to have to kill said psychopath.

Atop the filing cabinet was an open toolbox. Sticking out of it was a wrench. A large, solid wrench. It would do.

Wrench in hand and back to wall, Audrey inched along until she was right at the edge of the hole. She held her breath and then risked a look into the room beyond. What she saw was a survivalist's oasis. Shelves stacked with nonperishable food items and bottled water stood off to one side and an overhead projector cart now displayed an assortment of first aid supplies. Along the wall dividing this room from Audrey's, a pair of heavy executive desks had been relocated to be used as counters. On top of the desks sat multiples guns, knives and ammunition boxes, along with a small collection of pots, pans, and kitchen utensils. In the center of the space, a small folding chair and card table had been set up to where the person sitting could face the door. The door itself had been reinforced by pieces of plywood and sheet metal with a brace welded to the inside to support the stop sign that now served as a door bar.

Then there was the man. Dressed in workman's coveralls and boots, his back was to Audrey and he was still singing the same off-key version of "Oh My Darling, Clementine." He was standing in front of a hotplate, busy stirring a pot. His attention was occupied; the distance between her and him was close. Subduing him would be simple.

She stepped into the room.

Immediately, the song lyrics changed.

"_Oh my Darlin', Oh my Darlin',  
><em>_Oh my Daaaaaaarlin', Clementine,  
><em>_You were lost and gone forever,  
><em>_But then I saved you, Clementine."_

Audrey paused in midstep. No way, she thought. There was no way that those words had been directed towards her. She hadn't made a sound. The man continued to sing.

"_Threw the bomb in, and it went off,  
><em>_And I feeeeeeeel really bad,  
><em>_But I helped you, when I found you,  
><em>_Drop the wrench please, Clementine."_

That verse erased all doubt. Raising the wrench above her head, Audrey rushed forward. In the blink of an eye, the man was facing her, a pistol in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. Before she could stop herself, Audrey was in directly in front of the man, the barrel of his gun against her chest and his wooden spoon shoved up under her lower jaw. She stood there, wrench poised for the downward stroke, not moving a muscle. The man's mouth opened again, only this time he didn't sing.

"Guess I didn't make myself clear. Drop the wrench, _NOW_, Clementine!" Audrey released the wrench and it clattered to the floor. "_Thank_ you." With gun and spoon he nudged her backward. "Chair. Sit. Face me."

Audrey did as she was instructed, taking her first good look at the man. His eyes were what stood out to her first. They were a stormy grey, but with flecks of gold scattered throughout that made them carry an ever-present spark. And they didn't have an ounce of fear in them. His dark hair was shaggy and looked as though it had not seen water or soap in a long time, if ever. She put him at least fifteen to twenty years her senior, but his face, Audrey had to admit, was not unpleasant to look at. Though gaunt, a full beard and mustache made it appear full and healthy nonetheless. When he just stood there, not saying anything else, she asked, "So…now what? Are you going to shoot me?"

"Depends," said the man. "Are you gonna' be civil?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"You."

"Me?" The man gave a bemused laugh. "Girl, you're the one who tried to hit me with a wrench."

Audrey's brow furrowed in annoyance. "You tried to blow me up with a bomb."

"Didja' not listen to the song? I told you it was an accident, and I did rescue you, remember?"

"Screw your song! I saw what you did to those men. And to me," she added, pointing to her bandages. "Figure you'd dissect me a little at a time before feeding me to your trogs, is that it?"

The man rolled his eyes. "Fine, think what you want. Doesn't mean you have all the facts."

"I have enough."

Shaking his head, the man put away his pistol and turned back to what he had been stirring. Audrey started to rise until he said, "And don't even think about gettin' up from that chair. The contents of this pot are very hot and I'd rather have 'em in you than on you. Oh, and you've got some stuff on your neck."

Audrey scowled and reached up to wipe off said stuff. A sauce of some kind, it had come from the end of the man's spoon – when he'd held the spoon to a pressure point on her throat. A moment later, he returned to the table with a pair of steaming bowls, setting both in front of himself. After pulling up an empty milk crate, he sat down across from Audrey.

"You can have this," he told her, "but only if you promise to be nice to me from now on."

Audrey glared at him from across the table. "I'm not hungry," she answered curtly.

"Your stomach says you're a liar."

Knowing he was right made it even worse for Audrey. The food, whatever it was, did smell _very_ good. But he could have drugged it…and she had seen what Kai had been preparing in her 'diner'… No, just no. She wasn't budging, no matter how hungry she was.

"I've seen what you people eat," she said after a moment's pause. "I'd sooner starve."

"Oh I don't blame you a bit," said the man. "But how do you know that's what this is?"

"I don't, but I'm not taking my chances. Plus, you probably put something in there." At this, the man chuckled. "What?" she demanded. "What the hell is so funny?"

"You! You take paranoia and suspicion to a new notch, girl."

In a sudden fury, Audrey stood up and slammed her fists down onto the table. "_DO YOU NOT SEE WHERE WE ARE!_" she screamed. "This place, the whole f'ing _Pitt! _It's a deathtrap! All of it! I hadn't been out the Yard for even an _hour_ and already had something or some_one_ try to kill me on no less than five separate occasions. I'm hungry, I'm tired; I've been shaved, branded, and beaten! I've had nearly every ounce of dignity stolen from me, and because of it I am three different shades of pissed! So _pardon me_, if I'm willing to look a gift horse – who is also my _CAPTOR_ – in the mouth!"

During her tirade, the man hadn't moved, save to lift the bowls of food before she'd smacked the table – like he'd been expecting it. Now he was studying her critically. That spark in his eyes made him look as though he'd just found something that interested him greatly.

"Been more than an hour," he finally said. "Check your Pip-Boy. It's evenin' now."

Audrey blinked. It wasn't at his revelation of how much time had passed. Protectively, she put a hand over her Pip-Boy's screen. "You know what this is?"

"Yep."

"How?"

"Prior experience."

"Did you grow up in a Vault?"

"Nope."

"Did you _kill_ the people of a Vault?"

"And there you go again, jumpin' to conclusions!"

"You've given me no reason to trust you!" Audrey hissed.

Now it was the man's turn to stand up. He rose and leaned towards her across the table. "Will this help you?" he growled, shoving up his left sleeve, baring the skin underneath.

Audrey's eyes never left his.

"Look at it!" he ordered.

Reluctantly, Audrey turned her gaze from his face to his arm. Her breath caught in her throat. Tattooed into the man's forearm was an insignia she'd know anywhere. A sword showing the will to defend, bordered by wings symbolizing the uplifting hope that the acquisition of lost technology would be the salvation of mankind following the Great War. Surrounding the sword's blade was a trio of gears that marked a vast knowledge of engineering, and then the final element of the tattoo, a circle with an arc path that crossed the tips of the blade and each wing; its meaning, an unbroken fraternal unity forged in blood and steel.

"Y-you're with the Brotherhood!" she gasped.

"Of Steel, yes ma'am." The man put out his hand. "Paladin William Preston, Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel, Oklahoma detachment. Last survivin' member of Rose Rock Squad and proud thorn in the side to the great Lord Ashur of Pittsburgh."

"Knight Audrey Epson, Capital Wasteland detachment," Audrey replied, shaking his hand, her emotions now more of a jumbled mess than they were before. "I…I don't….I don't really know what to say."

"Then why don't you and me sit down and figure it out together over a nice hot bowl of pork n' beans?" Preston offered, sliding one of the bowls across the table to her.

"Pork and beans? You mean it's not– "

"Trog meat? Nope. I can go get the cans if you want to see for yourself. They should still have the labels on 'em, I think."

Audrey eyed the food ravenously. The voice in her head was still suspicious, but she willed it to silence. At some point, she was going to have to take something this man said at face value, she knew. It might as well start here. She sat down once again and pulled the bowl close to her. She inhaled deeply, the rich, saucy aroma making her mouth water, despite being over two centuries old. Preservatives were truly a work of art. She started to pick a piece of pork out with her fingers, when a tsk from Preston stopped her. She looked up at him.

"Did you forget your manners?" asked the Paladin.

"Did you forget your utensils?" she countered.

Preston smiled at this and with a flick of his wrist, a pair of metal spoons appeared in his hand. "Can I trust you with this?"

Audrey sighed and glanced down at her food. "I don't entirely want to kill you anymore," she admitted.

"Ha! I'll take that, Knight Epson," Preston laughed, tossing her the spoon.

Audrey caught it and wasted no time dipping it into her bowl and then shoveling pork and beans into her mouth. But once again, Preston was not satisfied about something as he tsked at her once more. "What?" she whined in exasperation, her words making their way around a mouthful of beans.

"We need to say grace, first."

Audrey swallowed what was in her mouth. "Grace?" she blurted and then immediately felt ashamed.

"Yes, grace," said Preston, patiently. "We gotta' thank the Lord for the bounty He's blessed us with this day. Now, take my hands, and then bow your head and close your eyes."

"I know how to pray."

"Then shut up and do it."

Once again, Audrey did as he told her. _This is _nuts_; completely nuts, _she reflected as she joined hands with Preston and closed her eyes. In the span of five minutes, she'd gone from thinking Preston wanted to kill her and knowing that she _definitely _wanted to kill him, to sharing a meal with the man and blessing the food. _What on earth have I gotten myself into?_

"Dear Lord," Preston began reverently, "we thank You for this food we are about to receive. We thank You for providin' for us even in places like this. For those here and elsewhere who aren't as fortunate as we are tonight, we ask that You continue to bless and comfort them in their time of need. I thank You for the gift of my new friend, here," – he gave Audrey's hands a squeeze – "Knight Epson. Father, I pray that in spite of all that You've allowed her to endure, that she would remember that You never stop lovin' and carin' for your children, and that in her times of greatest trial it's You who are carryin' her through. And Father, before our food gets cold, I ask forgiveness for the lives I've taken. I pray that some of them knew you before their souls were judged. In your name, I pray all of these things, amen."

"Amen," Audrey echoed soberly. Preston's prayer for her had touched her deeply. It was a healthy reminder of the truth she already knew, that someone still cared what happened to her this far from home. Midea and Werher cared, sure, but their concern was couched in means to an end. That didn't bother her, it was to be expected. Still, it was nice to be told she truly wasn't alone. _Lord, you've sent me a very strange angel, it seems_, she thought, glancing at Preston as he ate. _The company I keep._

They ate their meal in silence, not because Audrey didn't have questions she wanted to ask, she was just too busy inhaling her food to ask them. She was not normally one to eat so quickly, but she was too hungry to help herself. Paladin Preston ate more slowly, watching her with an amused expression the whole time. Once she'd finished, he brought her a bottle of purified water to wash everything down, explaining to her that it was pre-war pure and not the boiled-from-the-river kind of pure. For Audrey, it didn't matter; she quickly drained the whole bottle. She didn't ask for another though. Purified water was a rare commodity in this day and age, and there was no telling how much Preston's generosity had cut into his stock.

"So…um…what do I call you?" she asked finally, watching her host finish his meal. "Paladin? Preston? Paladin Prestion? Will? Wayne?"

Preston wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and gave her a befuddled look. "Wayne?" he said. "Really? Where did that come from?" He brushed off Audrey's smirk. "Never mind, anyway…no, none of the above. Just call me Bill, or Wild Bill if you're feelin' adventurous."

If Audrey had had any food in her mouth at that moment, it would have flown across the table and hit the man in the face.

"_You're_ Wild Bill?" she croaked.

"Yes? You weren't sent out here to look for my sorry hide, were you? Usually they just use us for ingot duty. Don't tell me the bosses miss me."

"Right…um, the bosses don't miss you–"

"Good!" Bill cut in. "I'd be insulted if they did."

"Milly sent me."

Bill nearly fell off of his milk crate. "Milly?" he sputtered. "You spoke to her? How's she doin'?"

"She seemed well, all things considered. She's really worried about you," Audrey explained.

A fond countenance appeared on Bill's face. "It'd be like her to look after me. Still, I'm kinda amazed she asked. Over a week in the Yard without reportin' in, I'm dead by Pitt standards. Still, nice to be missed."

"I think she asked because she cares about you."

"She does, Epson, and I feel the same way about her. Little lady pulled me out of a rough patch when I was first brought to the Pitt. Wouldn't've made it if it hadn't been for her. Since then, well…" He paused, scratching his head. This city ain't exactly the place for heart-to-heart stuff, but Milly and I…we do the best we can. She stays alive for me, and I stay alive for her. Is that really why you're here?" he asked. "Milly wanted me found and you volunteered?"

Audrey blushed. "I wish I could say my intentions were that noble. No, I'm out here for ingot duty, just like you said. Milly just happened to catch me on the way out the door."

"Then what'd you do to get sent out here? You're awfully new to be pulling this kind of work."

"Seriously?" exclaimed Audrey. "Does _everybody_ know I'm the new slave on the block?"

"That fact that you're bald tells me you're new. On a woman, a shaved head in the Pitt means new stock, unless you're the kind that likes that look."

"I–"

"And you pretty much gave it away during your tantrum earlier. Even the most stubborn lifers here don't bitch half as much as you did." Bill shrugged. "The more they bitch, the newer they are. Anywho, why are you really out here?"

_I really can_not_ shut up when I'm angry, can I?_ Audrey thought, her mouth ajar in silent epiphany. "I…fine. I killed some of the bosses before my incursion into the city backfired. Your turn."

"Wait, what? You _willingly_ entered the Pitt?"

"You're not even going to ask whether or not I really killed the bosses?"

"I ain't doubtin' you on that, Epson. From what I've seen of you so far, you're a little spitfire, and a Brotherhood-trained spitfire to boot. I _am_ surprised they let you live, though."

"You and everyone else."

"But I gotta' know: _why_ in the unholy hell would you choose to come here?"

"I was tasked with gathering information about the Pitt."

The lie slipped off of Audrey's tongue faster than she'd thought possible, but she made no effort to retract it. There was no telling how many people in the slave genpop knew about Wernher's and Midea's plans, but she felt it best to assume that that information was to be held within the smallest of circles. While she was starting to believe that she could trust Bill, her true mission was not ground that she would let him tread upon. She continued, fabricating a story about how the Brotherhood was interested in the state of the Pitt, post-Scourge, in light of the disturbing reports they'd been getting from some of their patrols who had encountered D.C. slaver rings. She further divulged how she'd entered the city and what a disaster it had been, carefully weaving the truth of that into her tale. She felt bad about lying to Bill, but in the end, the less he knew about what was really going on, the better it would be for him and for Milly.

"And they thought sendin' a one-woman recon party was a _good_ idea?" Bill asked incredulously when she finished. "Didja' think you just wouldn't get caught?"

"I pushed for it, actually. We're mopping up a war with the Enclave and manpower's at a premium right now. We lacked the resources and I had enough successful shadow-ops under my belt, etcetera, etcetera. Arrogance is the mother of stupidity."

"You've got the Enclave on the ropes?" Bill interrupted, his curiosity growing even more. "We've seen some of their activity in Chicago, but every time we try to get a fix on their base of operations, they just vanish. So we don't know how large their numbers in the Windy City really are. How'd you manage to beat back your sect?"

Audrey snickered. "We, um…we found a giant robot. A giant, _angry_ robot. With a giant, angry laser."

"You're shittin' me," was her host's response.

"I'm not. Took out a Vertibird one time by hurling a car at it."

Bill's eyes widened and he stared at her for a second. Then he began cackling and clapping his hands gleefully, nearly falling off of his milk crate again. "Good night almighty!" he wheezed, once he was able to form words again. "You ain't yankin' my chain, are you? I'll be, that _is_ somethin' I'd love to see." He then paused, seeming to grasp what he'd just said. "I'm sorry, here I am draggin' you down this rabbit hole and not lettin' you finish. What were you sayin' again?"

"We were talking about my being here–"

"Right, right. What happens when you don't report in? They gonna' come pull you out of the fire?"

Audrey's gaze fell into her empty bowl. "Nothing happens," she muttered somberly. "There is no contingency plan. I come back on my own or not at all; that's how it is. The assignment and I aren't valuable enough to warrant a rescue mission, so if my brothers did come, they'd be very generous and very crazy. It _is_ the Pitt, after all."

Bill nodded in unspoken agreement. "Got any questions of your own?"

"I…I'd like to know about this." She indicated the dressing around her middle. "Why do I have this on?"

Even underneath the beard and mop of hair, Bill's face flushed noticeably. "I hit you and the trogs with a nail bomb," he told her sheepishly. "I'm sorry. If I'd known you weren't with the rest of 'em, I never would've… You took a nail to the gut. I brought you here, pulled it out and then stimmed and sealed the wound."

"Was it very deep?"

"No, more of a glancing shot. Hit you crosswise and didn't get anything vital. Bled like the dickens, though. Gotta' love combat first aid; a little vodka, a stimpack, a hot iron and some rest and you'll be good as new."

Audrey's hand flew to her branded wrist. "You used a hot _iron_ on me?" she gasped.

"I didn't brand it, I cauterized it. It's what I had and it's quicker and more permanent than stitches. I hurt you and I did the best I could to make it right. I don't know what else to tell you."

"I'm sorry, I…I'm not trying to sound ungrateful," Audrey fumbled, struggling to push away the memories of Lulu and her torture devices, "I'm just…not doing well with the thought of burning flesh right now."

"I know," Bill replied. "Man, do I know. Again, I'm sorry I had to put you through it in the first place. At least you never woke up while I was workin' on you."

Audrey let out a mirthless giggle. "Ever since I got here, I think the only things I've been operating on are adrenaline and shock. I'm not surprised."

"Does it still hurt?"

"Where the nail went in? No, it's tender, is all. Nothing I can't handle."

"That's good. So…next question?"

Audrey chewed her lower lip. "I guess my next question, is _the_ question. Bill, what the heck is going on here? Milly said you volunteered for ingot duty and yet–"

"And yet this whole setup doesn't make a lick a' sense to you, does it," Bill concluded. "And right on the heels of that question are a buncha' little ones like 'Where are we?', 'Who were those men?', 'Why were they chasing you?', and last but surely not least, 'Bill, what in the cat hair are you still doin' out in the Yard?'" He leaned across the table expectantly. "I'm right, ain't I?"

"Yes, yes you are."

"Well, I can tell you all of this," Bill said, rising from his crate. He motioned for Audrey to stand too, which she did. "But I'd rather show you."

"Show me? Show me what?"

"You'll see," Bill answered enigmatically. He pointed towards the adjoining room. "But first, go in there and get yourself out of that strap n' rag crap. I've got some real clothes in the filing cabinet. They ain't pertty, and they may not fit you neither, but they're better than that shameful getup."

Audrey grinned. "What, you don't think this slave garb looks attractive on me?"

Bill scoffed. "Hell no. Brotherhood or not, you're a lady, and ladies should wear something proper. Now go on, shoo," he directed.

Audrey went into the bedroom area and started to undress. While she still checked to make sure, she did not believe that Bill would try to sneak a peek. This second impression he'd displayed for her – she couldn't believe she was actually thinking this – made him seem genuine. He could have killed her or hurt her at any point between now and when he had taken her in and he had done neither, save his blanket approach with the nail bomb. As ridiculous as the notion seemed to her, she trusted Bill.

As she disrobed, or unstrapped, rather, Audrey glanced back into the main room. _Okay Bill,_ she thought,_ I'm putting my life in your hands. Don't let me down. _Then she added, _and Lord, please let this be the first good decision I make on this trip._


End file.
